


White Picket Fences (the sequel)

by Aoidos



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoidos/pseuds/Aoidos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I originally started to post this under the WPF drabbles, but quickly discovered it's going to be its own fic :) </p><p>So now I'm posting it here instead.</p><p>The kids grows up and learn some things about their parents. But first, Max and Ravi get hitched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The phone is ringing when they pull up in the garage. 

Faintly, Arthur hears the rhythmic ting through the door, and so he leaps out of the car, darts up the stairs, and races into the house. Eames is still parking the car, and afterwards he’ll have to get the groceries out of the trunk. He hears the alpha say something along the lines of: “This is why we have an answering machine,” but Arthur ignores him.

It might be Max, and Arthur doesn’t want to miss his weekly phone call.

"Hello?" he gasps into the receiver, panting a little from the mad dash up the stairs. 

"Hey," Max says, sounding mildly concerned. "Is this a bad time?"

Arthur leans against the counter and smiles. “No, no. Not at all. How are you?”

Rustling fills Arthur’s ears. “Um…” Max begins, and the crepitation grows more prominent before it falls away entirely. Arthur furrows his brow as he listens. Max must have moved to a different room. “Good, actually. Um…”

"Is everything okay?" he asks, frowning at the wall. 

Max laughs. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Actually, Ravi asked me to marry him.”

It’s not an easy feat to surprise Arthur—not after everything he’s lived through while working in dreamshare—but in that moment, he’s utterly stunned. His grip tightens on the phone, and his lips fall open in shock. Something between a guffaw and a gasp expels from his mouth. “Oh my God. Really?”

The door to the garage closes behind him, and Arthur turns around to see Eames carrying the grocery bags inside. The alpha frowns when he sees Arthur’s shocked expression and he mouths: what is it? But Arthur can only shake his head, a smile stretching his cheeks so widely that they begin to hurt. 

"Yeah, a couple days ago," Max says, and he can tell his son his smiling from the tone of his voice.

"Really?" Arthur redundantly asks again. 

Max laughs. “Really. Honestly. I swear.”

Thankfully, Eames is there to take the phone from him when he starts to cry. “Ducky, what have you done to your father?” the alpha crows into the phone, and then grows silent following the question. Arthur is a weepy mess, but he carefully watches Eames’ face for the moment his eyes light up and a bright grin breaks out across his lips. “Brilliant!” he cries happily, and then laughs when he looks at Arthur: “Why in the world are you crying, darling?”

Arthur shakes his head. “I’m happy,” he says, quickly wiping his face, and leaning against Eames when the alpha throws an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. 

Max keeps talking, and Eames responds periodically with an occasional, “Uh-huh,” and “Right.”

"Well, all right, ducky. Sounds brilliant to me, but I’ll give you back to your dad. Tell Ravi well done, and send him our love."

Eames is still smiling happily when he hands the phone back to Arthur.

"Hey, baby," Arthur says softly.

"You’re happy, right?" Max asks, his tone worried now.

"Oh, you’ve no idea," Arthur replies, smiling. "Ravi will be a wonderful husband. I know it."

Max tone brightens again once he knows Arthur is actually happy in the news’ wake. “Okay, cool. Listen, I’ll call you later with more details, but my head is still spinning over here.”

Arthur nods, even though Max can’t see him. “I’m sure. Call us soon, okay?”

"Okay. I promise."

"We’re really so happy, Max."

Arthur can visualise Max’s smiling face when he responds: “Good. So are we.”

When Arthur hangs up the phone, he wipes his face again and looks at Eames, who is busy looking rather smug as he plucks canned goods out of the brown paper bag and places them in the cabinet.

"What’re you up to?" Arthur asks, a slow smirk bleeding across his lips.

Looking exactly like the cat that ate the canary, Eames pauses and leans against the island. “Ah, wrong question, my love. You should ask: what have I been up to already?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “No riddles. Tell me. I’m too emotional right now.”

Eames pouts for a split second, but he’s too pleased with himself to sulk for much longer. Instead, he leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “Ravi called me last week and asked me for permission to marry Max.”

Arthur’s reflexive reaction is to shove Eames, and the alpha looks genuinely surprised by the omega’s strength, but then he explodes in laughter. “Oi, watch it!”

"You knew?” Arthur cries, a smile breaking across his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The alphas shrugs. “Wanted you to be surprised,” he says, pausing for a moment. “And, frankly, I wanted to make sure Ravi went through with it. He sounded bloody petrified over the phone.”

Arthur walks over to his mate and cups his face gently. “I can’t believe you kept that from me,” he says, but the omega is smiling as he chastises Eames. “What else haven’t you told me?”

Eames cautiously rests his hands on Arthur’s hips, and when the omega doesn’t glare at him, he slides his arms around Arthur’s waist and pulls him close. “Have I told you I’m a spy for the Russians?” Eames asks, lowering the pitch of his voice.

Arthur smiles until his dimples are on full display as he wraps his arms around Eames’ neck. “Da, no vash russkiy otstoy,” he responds without hesitation. (“Yes, but your Russian sucks.”)

The omega uses Eames’ temporary stunned state to slip from his arms and saunter towards the bedroom, casting a sly smile over his shoulder.

Eames snaps out of it quickly enough and chases after him. “Wait, you be Dimitri, the naive, but flexible Private, and I’ll be Vlad, your tough, but sexually appealing Sergeant.” 

Arthur laughs loudly, but manages to purr, “Da, ser,” before Eames kicks the bedroom door shut.

(“Yes, sir.”)

***

One week earlier

Ravi has been planning this evening for months. He’s managed to secure them a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in the city, and for that reason alone, he’s been saving every penny of his pay check so he’ll have enough for their meal, and of course, the ring.

He’s especially proud of the ring.

Fishing the small black, velvet box from his jacket pocket, Ravi opens the case for the millionth time to look at it: a white gold band with a fourth carat of white diamonds running along the middle. It set him back several pay checks, and Max had looked at him oddly more than a few times when Ravi innocently suggested they buy non-brand food products just to save a bit more cash.

But now, the time is upon them. The reservation at Le Cœur has been made, the ring is in his possession, and Eames has just given Ravi his blessing to ask for Max’s hand in marriage. Of course, the “blessing” had included a not-so-veiled threat along the lines of if you ever hurt my baby boy, but it’s still a blessing, nonetheless. 

Ravi flips the box shut and slips it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Now, he just needs to bloody calm down.

He’s afraid, if Max comes home from class too soon, he’ll see Ravi pacing around, hands shaking, and immediately know what’s going on. Ravi has an absolutely abysmal poker face, and even though Max is a somewhat naive, trusting soul, he’s not oblivious enough to miss the alpha sweating through three layers of clothing.

He hurries to the bathroom to slip off his jacket and splash some cold water on his face, and then flips down the toilet lid so he can sit down for a while.

Ravi is breathing meditatively in the bathroom when the downstairs door slam shuts and Max comes running up the stairs.

Quickly, he stands up, slips into his jacket again, and walks out into the main room to greet the omega. They’d planned to leave for Le Cœur as soon as Max returned from his evening class, and quickly changed, but when Ravi sees his mate, he instantly knows there will have to edit the schedule.

Max looks awful. He’s pale, with dark bruising under his eyes, giving the appearance he hasn’t slept in ages—even though Ravi knows for a fact he slept about ten hours last night. The omega had said he’d been feeling a little under the weather, but hoped to beat it by passing out for a long night of rest.

Apparently, that didn’t work. 

"I’m so sorry," Max says immediately, dropping his book bag by the table. 

When Ravi hugs him, he can feel Max has sweated through his shirt and partway through his jacket. “It’s all right, love,” he says lightly, even though there is a circus of panic running through his brain. 

There’s no way they’ll be able to get another table at Le Cœur for several months, which throws off the rest of his plan. Without the perfect restaurant, Ravi will have to reconfigure the rest of his proposal. And the proposal has to happen at Le Cœur because it’s the nicest restaurant in town, and Max deserves the best.

"We can reschedule," Ravi says pleasantly, kissing the omega’s brow, and he feels the flesh there is warm—too hot. Max has a fever.

"But..you said..it’s hard to get a reservation, right?" Max asks.

Ravi frowns when the omega shakes against him. Fever, and chills, apparently, he notes.

"Nonsense," he dismisses breezily. "Let’s get you into bed, yeah?" 

Max is too weak to oppose the idea, and they end up shedding his clothing article by article on the way to the bedroom. Dressed in boxers alone, Max crawls under the blankets and cocoons himself. Ravi fetches the thermometer from the bathroom cabinet and places the metal tip under Max’s tongue for about thirty seconds. When he removes it and gazes at the little screen, Ravi frowns. “Slight fever, love. You stay here and rest. I’ll take care of you.”

He feels the impulse to smile fondly when Max gazes up at him, miserable and furious at a universe that has punished him with sickness on this, of all days. “I’m sorry,” he apologises again. “You look so handsome. I was so excited for tonight.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ravi presses his comparatively cool hand against Max’s brow, and the omega hums gratefully. “It’s not your fault,” he says, smiling in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. “I’ll go make you some soup, hm?”

Max nods slightly, and he looks so defenceless and young that Ravi genuinely forgets to care that all his carefully laid plans have been completely derailed. He just wants to take care of Max.

Ravi stands, and leans over the bed to pick up the teddy that Max always keeps on the bed. He means for it to be a light, playful moment when he hands the bear to Max, but when he looks back at the omega, he sees Max holding the small black box in his hands.

"What’s this?" Max asks.

Ravi drops the bear on the bed and stands upright, heart in his throat. The box must have fallen out of his pocket when he leaned over Max, and the omega thus far hasn’t pieced together what it all means. Wildly, he thinks maybe he can still lie his way out of the situation, but he can’t make his tongue cooperate, and then it’s too late.

Max opens it and gasps. But the omega doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks from the ring up to Ravi, awaiting an explanation.

But the thing is: Ravi can’t think of what to say because none of this is part of his plan. The alpha enjoys making meticulous arrangements, and sometimes, when those plans are demolished with a couple tons of dynamite, he finds it difficult to improvise. 

"Ravi?" Max asks, and even though he’s sweaty, pale, and sniffling, Max is still the most beautiful omega he’s ever seen.

Ravi sighs. “Bugger,” he mumbles, chin dropping a bit. “I…wanted this to be special.”

Max is silent, but he looks at the ring again, and then looks back to him. “Wanted what to be special?”

The alphas sighs, frustrated with himself that he could have been so bloody stupid as to give the game away like this. Max deserves better. Max deserves a perfect proposal, which includes a perfect night at Le Cœur, and a perfect meal, and a perfect bottle of wine. “You know…” he says, gesturing helplessly at the box. 

"No…" Max says, putting the box down on the blanket, in front of Ravi. "Why don’t you tell me?"

Ravi furrows his brow, but when he sees the glint in Max’s eyes, he understands. Max knows exactly what the ring means, but he wants Ravi to stop being a sulky prat, and ask him already.

Maybe Ravi has seen one too many romantic films. Maybe fancy restaurants are overrated. Perhaps the perfect proposal entails an element of surprise—say, dropping the engagement ring in his mate’s lap, for example. But mainly, the perfect proposal involves two partners, who are mad about each other, and giddy at the prospect of spending the rest of their lives together. 

He picks up the little black box and gets down on his knee at the side of the bed. Max sits up a little, smiling brightly when Ravi opens the box and shows him the ring. “Anyway, will you marry me, Max?” Ravi asks, and strangely, it feels right. He’s nervous, just as he should be, and stupidly happy. 

Max, the poor thing, is so ill, but still his face lights up and he nods immediately. “Yes,” and when the alpha slides the ring onto his finger, tears well up in his eyes. “It’s so beautiful, Ravi.” 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ravi folds Max into his arms, and kisses him—uncaring of germs, and the fact that he is definitely going to catch the flu from the omega. Ravi just wants to be near him, even if it means curled up miserably beside him for a few days.

***

Max calls back a few days later, and before Arthur can even say hello, declares, “Okay, here’s the plan.”

The wedding will take place in a few months in India so Ravi’s whole family, including Yusuf, can attend it. Arthur insists that Cobb, the kids, and Ariadne all be invited, to which Max responds: “Of course, dad. Jeez,” as if he’d forget his uncle, cousins, and aunt.

"Oh, and also Patrick, Edward, and Peter."

"Yup, already on the list," Max responds.

Thus begins a daily ritual of Max calling Arthur to consult him about details of the wedding, and whenever Arthur points out this would be easier if he just flew to Massachusetts and planned these things in person with him, Max insists that he can handle it on his own. 

Then he calls Arthur again the next day, and they run up the bill chatting for hours about color schemes, and food, and music.

"Now, dad," Max says in a way that is meant to brace Arthur for bad news. "Traditional Indian weddings are very…colorful." 

Arthur scowls into the air. “I know that,” he responds defensively.

"Right…" Max says, sounding unsure. "I just want you to be ready for…lots of color…and bold prints."

Arthur nearly huffs into the phone. “I think I can handle it. You have met your father, right?”

Max laughs. “Fair enough.”

Despite the joy of the occasion, Arthur is relieved to hear Max confirm that he still intends to finish school. He’s in his second year now, and doing very well, and part of Arthur feared Max would want to drop out and start a family with Ravi. Arthur wants grandkids as much as Eames, but he can wait a couple years for them.

"We want you and dad to come out a little earlier than everyone else to help with planning," Max says.

"Of course," Arthur responds, flipping out his moleskin like it’s attached at his hip in a holster—just like in the old days. "Just give me the details and we’ll be there."

***

The wedding is scheduled in spring, and when Arthur receives the phone call from Max with the details about where they’re flying to (New Delhi,) he books a room at the Lalit, a five-star hotel, because he’s still Arthur, after all.

He’s had to be cautious while planning the wedding with Max, being sure to say spare no expense, without raising curious questions from their son. Arthur and Eames have acquired a small fortune from their time in dreamshare, and each of the kids has a trust fund waiting for them when they turn twenty-five, but in the meantime, Arthur keeps the details of their finances vague.

All he keeps saying is, “Whatever you want, baby,” when Max hesitantly asks for higher quality chairs for the reception, or nicer bouquets for the tables.

Their first day in New Delhi, Max arranges a meeting for the parents. 

Arthur dresses in his favorite Hugo Boss suit, and sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for Eames to emerge from the bathroom.

He hasn’t seen Eames clean-shaven and sporting a suit in some exotic location since their days in dreamshare, and when the alpha emerges from the bathroom wearing a charcoal Tom Ford suit, face smooth, hair slicked back, he looks so much like his old self—with perhaps a bit more gray hair—that Arthur is left momentarily speechless.

"That good?" Eams grins, pretending to fix his cufflinks ala James Bond. 

"You look…amazing," Arthur says, deciding not to filter how he really feels because he doesn’t have to do that with Eames anymore. He hasn’t had to do that in a very, very long time, actually.

The soft expression on Eames’ face is belied by his sarcastic tone. “Do try not to sound so surprised, darling.”

Arthur stands and slowly approaches his mate, greedily drinking in the details of his appearance. He gently grips the jacket’s lapels and presses close to him, smiling the whole while.

Silently, they move towards each other, their lips softly meeting.

And they’re very nearly late meeting Ravi’s parents.

***

Nilaya, thank God, is almost nothing like her brother. In fact, it seems as though the only characteristics they share are a razor sharp wit and a high degree of brilliance. But apart from that—Nilaya is open and sincere where Yusuf is snide and conniving, Nilaya warm where Yusuf is oftentimes aloof. 

She’s the director of a non-profit focused on providing women with micro-loans to start up businesses, while Yusuf is an internationally wanted felon specialising in drugging other criminals so they can steal people’s thoughts.

It’s also very clear where Ravi got his looks. She is a vision: dressed in a gorgeous emerald Sari, ornate golden earrings dangling from her ears and framing olive cheekbones. Nilaya’s eyes are a luminous shade of almond, and her full lips have been painted a soft pink hue. 

Arthur quickly decides she’s the most beautiful omega he’s ever laid eyes on, and seconds after meeting her and Ravi’s father, Ishan, he also decides she may be his favorite person too when she opens by declaring: “My brother is frequently useless, but I must say, he was quite right when he called Max lovely.”

She’s the type of person that gets away with saying stuff like that, and it doesn’t sound unnecessarily cruel, because her voice and accent are so pleasant.

Ishan is wearing a gold Sherwani, and though he’s a rather striking, dignified-looking man with gray sideburns, he really can’t hold a candle to his wife. 

"How in the world did you and Yusuf come from the same womb?" Eames asks almost immediately, getting to the crux of the matter as only Eames can.

Nilaya’s laughter is like music—chimes dancing in a gentle breeze—and Arthur and Eames may fall a little bit in love with her right then and there. “Isn’t it amazing? Nature really is strange.”

They sit at a long table and discuss the details of the wedding as tray after tray of food are brought to them by their waiter, all of it delicious and served in small metal bowls. The Naan bread is fluffy and warm, and Arthur immediately tears off a chunk and dips it in the Chole bhature. Balancing the chick peas on the bread, he pops it into his mouth and hums appreciatively. “Everything is heavenly,” he praises.

Eames nods affirmatively. “Best Indian food I’ve ever had,” he says, high praise coming from the master chef himself.

Nilaya smiles brightly. “Well, it helps to have it prepared by real-life Indians.”

Arthur feels himself swell with pride when Nilaya and Ishan go on to praise Max endlessly—how brilliant they think he is, how handsome, how polite and thoughtful. He finds himself nodding along rather narcissistically, but it can’t be helped: Arthur agrees. Max is all of those things. It’s a scientific fact.

They return the favor by gushing over Ravi, and once everyone is satisfied the children have been lavishly praised long enough, they return to the matter of the wedding.

"The ceremony will be a traditional Hindu wedding," Nilaya explains. "I’m not devote myself, mind you, but our extended family is, and this is just easier."

Arthur smirks a little and nods. Neither he nor Eames are religious, so that won’t be an issue. “I was wondering if Indian weddings are different than regular Alpha-Omega ceremonies,” he says, reaching for more Naan.

Nilaya smiles, like she thinks Arthur has asked a very clever question. “Ah, not as dissimilar as you might imagine. So first we have the Kanyadaan. Eames, that means you will be giving away Max, like in a traditional Alpha-Omega ceremony.”

When he glances at the alpha, Eames is watching Nilaya thoughtfully, nodding a bit, but Arthur has to look away quickly—back to his Naan bread. He can’t think about that moment too deeply or he’ll start to cry.

"Next, we have the Panigrahana, which is basically them holding hands in front of a small fire,” Nilaya goes on, “To symbolise their union.”

She picks up the teapot and refills all of their cups before setting it down and adding: “Finally, the Saptapadi. This is the most important ritual of all. Their vows. This part is recited entirely in Sanskrit in long form, usually, though for Max’s sake, we’re sticking with short form. It’s quicker,” she says.

Arthur blinks. “Does…Max doesn’t know Sanskrit, does he?”

Ishan chuckles. “No, but’s he been practising devoutly for several months.”

"He’s been making great progress," Nilaya says encouragingly, smiling. "So they say these vows, and after each of the seven oaths, they perform Anga Pradakshina, which basically means they walk around the fire, with part of each other’s garments tied to one another. And that’s it. Nice, short, simple.”

Eames pauses from molesting the Palak paneer, a dish made from spinach and cheese, and nods. “Right. Just like an Alpha-Omega ceremony, but with fire.”

Nilaya’s laughter rings out in the restaurant. “That’s my people. Drama, drama, drama.”

***

The day of the wedding, Eames looks unfairly attractive in the Sherwani that has been specially made for him. The jacket is gold, and normally Arthur would advise against Eames wearing gold because the color washes him out, but the Nehru collar that extends up from the shoulders elongates his neck, and gives the whole garb a regal flair. The trousers hug his powerful thighs in a truly indecent way, and Arthur is annoyed because he really doesn’t want to have an erection during his son’s wedding.

"I thought only the groom wears this thing," Jack says, pulling on his own Sherwani. 

Arthur sighs. “Yeah, well, we’re all wearing one.”

His son pauses, and stares into the mirror, though he’s really looking at Arthur—eyes wide in disbelief. “Wait, you’re wearing one?” he asks, bursting out laughing before Arthur can even answer. “Oh my God. This day is already incredible.”

Jack and Rose’s flight arrived earlier that day, and Rose is busy helping Max with some last minute touches. During the ceremony, their family will stand on Max’s side, and Yusuf, Nilaya, and Ishan will stand on Ravi’s side. This is one of the traditions borrowed from the Alpha-Omega wedding ceremony.

Eames is still checking himself out in the bathroom mirror, and finally Arthur sighs exasperatedly. “Can I get in there any time today? I’d like to make it on time to my youngest son’s wedding, please.”

"Can’t be helped, darling," Eames declares as he slips out of the bathroom. "I feel you should know, once the omegas of this country see how good I look in their clothing, they probably won’t let me leave."

Arthur rolls his eyes and refuses to give Eames the satisfaction of admitting he looks mouthwatering in the Sherwani. Instead, the omega silently slips past him and clicks the door shut.

All the alphas will wear gold Sherwanis, except Ravi, who will be wearing gold and burgundy, at least according to Nilaya. The omega men also wear Sherwanis, but theirs are gold and blue—an intricate pattern of woven colors that is really quite beautiful, Arthur has to admit. Granted, it’s a bit bolder than he’s use to, but he’s able to appreciate it on an aesthetic level, nonetheless.

Arthur changes into the tight pants, and for the first time, he’s grateful for the long coat, because Eames would be an unbearable handful if he saw how his mate’s ass looked in these trousers. Next, he tugs on the plain white tunic, and last, the Sherwani. 

Taking a step back, Arthur examines himself in the bathroom mirror. The colors brighten his face a bit, and he begrudgingly has to admit that the outfit doesn’t look entirely unfortunate.

His suspicions are confirmed when he exits the bathroom and Jack and Eames’ jaws nearly hit the floor.

"Woah," Jack says.

Eames smiles eventually. “Darling, you look smashing.”

Arthur straightens his jacket a little self-consciously. “Really?” he asks, glancing at his reflection again. 

"Yes, absolutely. I’m furious you haven’t been dressing in vibrant colors and bold patterns all the years I’ve known you," Eames says, the smile apparently glued to his lips.

"Yeah, well…Don’t get any wild ideas," Arthur says, slipping into the Khussa shoes. Even their footwear is meticulously carved and decorated. Arthur thinks of his Tanino Criscis resting inside his luggage. By comparison, these shoes make his previous footwear look dull—$1,000-per-pair dull, but still lacklustre.

Eames consults his wristwatch. “Two hours until the ceremony. Cobb and the sprogs in yet?”

Arthur looks up once his shoes are on and nods. “Yeah, they’ll meet us at the hall.”

Ravi’s parents have rented a huge wedding hall for the ceremony and reception, and Arthur has already received three weepy calls from Max, who can’t stop raving about the decorations.

"Right," Eames says, clapping his hands together. "Let’s go then."

***

Max is right. The hall is massive and gorgeously decorated. The carpet is red with gold trimming and both sides of the room are lined with velvet chairs. At the end of the room is a raised platform, framed by four columns. Lotus flowers decorate the stage, and lush fabrics hang from the walls and ceiling. The entire setting is rich and decadent, like Max and Ravi are royalty, and Arthur is surprised by how emotional that thought makes him.

This is nice. While Arthur never wanted an opulent ceremony, he has always hoped Max would have one simply because he knows his son wants a traditional wedding. 

"Wow, this is swank," Jack says from behind him.

"Stay here, I’ll be right back," Arthur says quickly and hurries into a side room where he knows Rose is helping Max get ready.

When he walks into the room, he sees Rose fussing over Max’s attire: a jacket similar to Arthur’s, but with the addition of a beautiful forehead ornament, the Matha Patti. With his hair brushed off his face, Max really does look like his double (but younger, of course).

Rose looks over at him, and he must looked wrecked because the first words out of her mouth are: “Oh Jesus, don’t you start crying. I just got him to stop.” Rose nods to Max, who does indeed look like he’s on the verge of tears just seeing Arthur in the room.

"Don’t cry," Arthur says, walking over to them, and a slow smile spreads across his lips when he looks at Max. "You look wonderful, baby."

"It’s not too much? I told Nilaya it was too much, but she said it’s tradition, so…"

"No, it’s beautiful," Arthur says, his voice wavering.

"Oh God," Rose sighs, brushing Max’s shoulders, smoothing out the fabric.

Rose is dressed in a pink Ghagra Choli, the flowing fabric hanging off one shoulder, and extending to the floor. The dress is stitched with images of delicate white flowers. 

"Hush," Arthur says, leaning over to hug his daughter in greeting before he grabs Max in a tight embrace. 

He really doesn’t mean to cry, but the second he hugs Max, Arthur dissolves into tears, which of course sets Max off again, and Rose ends up having to pry them apart. “Dad,” she hisses. “Don’t make me throw you out of here.”

Arthur tries to behave himself after that.

He watches Rose ready Max for half an hour, and then slips outside to begin greeting the guests.

Cobb looks exactly like he’s just gotten off a 25-hour flight, but he puts on a pleasant expression when he hugs Arthur in greeting. “Wow, you look great,” he says, laughter in his voice as he takes in the sight of his very serious former point man draped in flashy garb. 

Arthur grins and hugs Phillipa and James, who look considerably perkier than their father. 

"This place is amazing," says Phillipa, gazing around the room with wide eyes. 

"Thanks," Arthur says, even though he really can’t take credit for the decorations. 

Just then, Ariadne enters the room, and Arthur laughs happily when she throws her arms around him in a tight hug. 

"Wow, great timing," he says, referring to the Cobb’s recently arrival.

"Huh? Oh, we were on the same flight," she says, smiling tightlipped and averting her gaze.

Arthur nods slowly, looking from Ariadne to Cobb, who curiously also refuses to look at him.

Interesting.

Arthur decides to research into that curious development later.

"You guys have seats in the front. There are name cards on the seats," Arthur adds when he spots Eames on the other side of the room, chatting with Edward, Patrick, and Peter. 

He excuses himself and crosses the room to stand by his mate.

"Arthur!" Patrick cries happily, grabbing him in an enthusiastic hug. "Gosh, this is exciting, isn’t it? I mean, a wedding in India? I haven’t ever been to India before. Wow, you look gorgeous. Is this silk?" he asks, touching Arthur’s jacket.

Arthur laughs. “I have no idea. Honestly, Ravi’s mom planned most of this. We’re just hanging on for the ride.”

Edward grins. “Never mess with an omega mother, right?”

"Damn right," he answers, smirking.

"Where is Ravi, anyway?" Peter asks, eyes scanning the room.

"With Ishan and Yusuf, that way," Eames says, pointing to another door on their side of the room. "He can’t see Max before the wedding, or there’ll be six more months of winter, or something."

Edward snickers. “You’re holding up well, considering you’re about to give your youngest away.”

"He’s in denial," Arthur answers for him.

"I’m not in bloody denial," Eames sighs, but then he excuses himself to go say hello to the Cobbs, and Arthur thinks it’s a diversion tactic.

***

He’s proven right minutes later when they all have to gather in the side room before they walk out to the main hall, and reenter the ceremony area through the front doors. 

It starts when Jack walks into the room, sees Max, and swears loudly. There’s a flurry of movement, and suddenly they’re hugging, and Max is crying against his brother’s shoulder, and Rose keeps saying: “Fuck. Shit. Stop crying. Goddamnit.”

Eames steps into the room half a second later, and seems to slip into shock when he sees their youngest in full wedding regalia. 

"Oh.." is all he says when he can see Max unobstructed, after Jack finally lets go of his brother.

Max stands there: unsure, shy, and totally beautiful. Arthur manages not to cry looking at his son this time, but quickly forgets that’s the goal when Eames grabs Max in a tight bear hug, picking him up, as he murmurs: “Ducky…I can’t believe it.”

Arthur starts crying again, but Rose doesn’t yell at him this time. She simply stands by him and gently rubs his back.

Max clings to Eames until they make him let go because he has to get married in a couple minutes. “You’re walking me down the aisle, right?” he sniffles, and it’s a totally unnecessary question, because that’s been the plan since day one, and everyone knows it. Max just wants to be comforted by the sound of Eames’ voice.

"I’ll be beside you the whole time," Eames promises when Rose steps back in again to gently pat Max’s cheeks with a tissue.

***

The main wedding party queues outside the front doors when they’re shut, and wait for the music to serve as a warning. Inside the hall, a live band plays traditional tunes on the Santoor, Tabla, and Sitar.

Jack and Rose will enter first, followed by Yusuf, Nilaya and Ishan, then Arthur, Ravi, and finally Eames and Max.

Arthur stays with Max and Eames until the last possible second before he kisses Max on the cheek, whispers, “I love you. Good luck,” and darts outside before he misses his cue.

By the time it’s his turn to walk down the aisle, mostly everyone is gathered on either side of the raised platform—the alpha’s family on the right, which means Arthur will veer to the left and stand beside Rose to the side of the alter. He reminds himself not to walk too quickly—to time his steps to match the beat of the music, and he flashes a smile when he looks up and sees Cobb and Ariadne watching him fondly.

Arthur comes to a stop at the alter, and Rose discreetly hands him a tissue because she’s always been a kind, practical young lady. 

Ravi enters next, so handsome in his gold and burgundy Sherwani, the vibrant fabric making his skin and hair shine all the more luminously. He smiles brightly when he sees the room filled with friends and loved ones, and Ravi nods at Arthur because it’s the only sign of recognition he can risk without his mother later batting his ear for breaking form.

Finally, the music picks up, and the guests stand because it’s time for Max to enter the room.

Arthur takes a deep breath and he feels Rose gently squeeze his arm, a silent gesture of reassurance.

When Eames and Max appear in the doorway, and his gaze briefly locks with the alpha’s, Arthur smiles. 

Max is lovely—the overheard lights catching the Matha Patti, giving the omega an ethereal appearance. Clinging to Eames’ arm, Max slowly walks down the aisle with his father, and Arthur can tell by his body language that their son is terrified. Max has never enjoyed being in large groups, or being the center of attention, but his eyes are fixated ahead of him—at the alter, specifically on Ravi, and when Arthur looks at the groom, Ravi is smiling with joy.

Eames is breathing in a very slow, deliberate way, and no one but Arthur will fully understand what that means. He’s only see the alpha do it once—when he got shot in Thailand, but he tried to put on a brave face for Arthur, back when they were still dancing around each other, and hadn’t mated yet.

Arthur mimics the slow in and out of Eames’ breath, and once again deludes himself into believing he has his emotions under control.

But then Eames and Max pause before the alter. The alpha cups their youngest’s face affectionately and tenderly kisses his brow, and Arthur has to make quick use of the tissue Rose handed him when tears spill down his cheeks. 

Very faintly, he hears Eames whisper: “Love you, ducky,” and Max smiles at him, tears brimming in his eyes, as he mouths: Love you.

Eames turns, presenting Max to Ravi, and the alphas shake hands before Eames joins the omega’s side of the alter. Standing beside Arthur, Eames reaches down and grabs his hands, fingers lacing, and Arthur leans against his side subtly. He needs to feel Eames’ solid weight beside him, and he knows that his mate needs the same thing right now.

Maybe it’s the lavish decorations, or the exotic location, or the fact that this is their little Max getting married, but the whole affair has a very surreal quality. Arthur hasn’t felt like this in ages, and he’s seized by the desire to check his totem. Except, the loaded die has been gathering dust for a couple decades in the bedside table back home. 

But Arthur doesn’t need the totem anymore because he has Eames.

He holds his mate’s hand through the Panigrahana and the Saptapadi, and Arthur smiles proudly when Max smoothly, although a little quietly, recites the Sanskrit. When he glances at Eames, the same pride shines on the alpha’s face. 

Ishan performs the simple task of narrating the wedding, which is probably for the benefit of the western guests. As the couple repeats the vows, they perform Anga Pradakshina, the walk around the fire, tied together.

Arthur notices that lost, frightened expression fades from Max’s face every time he looks at Ravi, and the thought comforts him—that Max now has his own anchor in this world that is independent of Arthur and Eames. He tells himself that’s a good thing. One day, they’ll be gone, but Ravi will take care of Max and their children.

That’s how it should be.

The next time Arthur looks at Eames, the alpha’s face is wet with tears, and he sighs. “Fucking hell,” Eames whispers beneath his breath, just loud enough for Arthur to hear.

Squeezing Eames’ hand, he murmurs: “I know.”

Everything is as is should be, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

When the walk is over, Ishan announces that Max and Ravi are wed, and Max has magically transformed from Max Eames to, “Max Lalla.”

Everyone claps, Rose whistles loudly, and Arthur clings to Eames—too overcome to do either. Luckily, Eames seems to be on the same page because he hugs the omega tightly, nose and mouth buried in his hair.

***

Afterwards, there’s a big reception dinner in another room with equally sumptuous decorations. There’s rich food, and a cake, and when everyone is stuffed and happy, the waiting staff comes out and serves chai tea. Max and Ravi are inundated with well-wishers, and gifts, and Ravi keeps sweeping Max onto the dance floor. Jack cuts a rug with the available omega ladies, and Rose even allows Peter a dance or two.

Arthur briefly says hello to Edward and Patrick, and hugs the omega tightly when Pat openly weeps against his shoulder, then hiccups an apology—something about being no good at weddings.

Later, Arthur and Eames duck outside with Cobb so the alphas can enjoy a cigar on the patio.

"That seemed rough," Cobb says, exhaling a ring of smoke into the air before passing the cigar back to Eames.

Arthur scoffs as he leans against the patio banister. “It really was,” he says, squinting up at the night sky. “You tell yourself they’re adults, and you’re ready to send them off, but they’re still your kids, you know?”

Cobb nods thoughtfully. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Eames puffs on the cigar, lets the smoke swim in his mouth a beat, and then exhales it in a controlled stream. Normally, Arthur would nag him about smoking, but it’s just one cigar, and it’s after their son’s wedding, so he doesn’t want to spoil the celebration.

"I’m glad, though," the alpha says, nodding to the glass double doors, through which the party is visible. "Ravi is a good man. I know Jack and Rose will be fine, but I always worried about Max."

Cobb accepts the cigar from the other alpha and nods. “And what will you two be up to now?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t answer. Quite honestly, he’d been so busy with the kids, and then courtships, and weddings that he hadn’t really thought to plan anything, which for Arthur, is tantamount to saying he forgot to breathe air. When he looks at his mate, Eames looks equally at a loss for words. 

For the first times in their lives, neither Arthur or Eames have planned a next move.

Cobb interprets their silence as a cue to keep talking. “Might I suggest a job?”

"Oh Lord," Eames laughs, shaking his head. "The last time you said that, I recall we got into a spot of trouble."

Arthur grins, but he can’t ignore the way his heart races in his chest. Being here—with Eames and Cobb—feels like old times, and now he doesn’t have the excuse of his children to keep him out of the business any longer. And if he is to be perfectly honest, Arthur misses dreaming. More specifically, he misses creating with Eames, and he’d give anything to see his mate forge again.

Judging by the way Eames is eyeing Cobb, he feels the same way. “I thought you were out of the business.”

Cobb shrugs, aiming for casual. “Someone recently convinced me to come out of retirement.”

Arthur flashes back to Ariadne walking in to the wedding hall, her gaze inexplicably shy when Arthur inquired about her shared flight with Cobb. “Uh-huh. I can guess who that is,” he smirks.

Cobb ignores him. “It’ll be great. Like old times.”

Eames shakes his head when Cobb tries to hand him the cigar again, but it’s only a rejection of the tobacco, and not the deal. 

Arthur is already making checklists in his head, and he flips back into point man role so easily that it startles him a little bit. He’d thought he had shed his old persona, but it appears as though dreamshare Arthur was just standing in the shadows, waiting.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the doors open, and Yusuf slip outside, until the man speaks: “What’re you lot up to?”

"We’re getting the band back together," Eames says, winking at Arthur.

Arthur smirks, and Yusuf doesn’t skip a beat when he accepts the cigar from Cobb and replies: “About bloody time.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Ravi's honeymoon

The entire wedding seems like a dream. 

Max makes himself pause occasionally and commit a scene to memory: Arthur’s face when he first sees Max in his ceremonial clothing, Eames’ steady presence as they walk down the aisle, Ravi’s face when they gaze at one another while reciting their vows. Max pulls himself out of the whirlwind to enjoy these little vignettes: Jack dancing with every unattached omega within a fifty mile radius, beautiful Rose in her flowing frock, spinning and dancing with Peter.

He knows it’s important to step back and cherish these seconds, because by and large, the day passes in the blink of an eye. He’ll see photos later, but he only gets to live in once.  

Ravi holds his hand, and pulls him close when they dance, and Max is grateful for the reassuring weight of his mate. “You’re beautiful,” Ravi whispers against his forehead, and Max closes his eyes, smiling. 

His mate might regret the imperfect proposal, but the wedding is flawless—like something out of a fairytale.

Before the night comes to a close, Nilaya and Ishan present them with a very generous gift: a honeymoon package with all the trimmings in Paris. 

Rose gasps excitedly. “Oh my God! Perfect! I can show you guys around.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “They’re not gonna want to hang out with you, dummy.”

"That’s not true," Max says, swatting at Jack lightly. "We’d love to see you."

Rose smiles smugly, glaring at Jack, and Max beams as he gazes down at the plane tickets. He’s never been to Paris. Actually, wedding in India aside, Max has never travelled anywhere exotic, and he’s only seen photos of Paris—ones taken years and years ago by his fathers.

Ravi’s large hand rests against his hip, and Max leans into the alpha’s side. “Excited?” his mate asks, smiling down at him. 

"Very," Max answers, grinning.

***

They board the plane to Paris that same evening, and when they leave for the airport, everyone bids them bon voyage in a mad flurry of well-wishes, hugs, and kisses.

"I don’t even have my clothes," Max says to Ravi.

The alpha’s smile is stunning as he shrugs nonchalantly. “So I’ll buy you clothes.”

Max doesn’t have a response to that so he just laughs breathlessly. This is so unlike how he’s lived his life in the past that Max finds the whole experience quite surreal, but in a good way. He’s starting a new chapter of his life, and that should include making bold decisions like this.

He only has the small carry-on he brought to India in the first place, but it has everything he needs: passport and wallet.

Rose hugs him and says she’ll call their hotel when she’s back in Paris, and even if he could think of a response to that, Jack makes speaking impossible when he crushes the air out of the omega’s lungs during an enthusiastic hug. 

Max finds he’s not too dehydrated from crying and drinking wine (something he usually never does) to cry some more when Arthur and Eames hug him goodbye. 

"Call us if you need anything, ducky," Eames says, and Max immediately thinks of the day he left for MIT—terrified and heartbroken, and he starts crying again.

Arthur soothes him, stroking back his hair, and hugging him as he chants:  _don’t cry. Don’t cry, baby._

He thought his newly gained independence at school would make leaving his parents easier, but there will always be a piece of him that’s that little boy, following Arthur around from room-to-room like his shadow. 

"I love you guys," he whispers, and then they leave.

***

 _Hotel Le Meurice_ is located in the 1st arrondissement of Paris, opposite the vibrant Tuileries Garden, and a hair’s breath away from The Louvre. To Max, it looks like the inside of a palace, and he’s instantly self-conscious of his appearance. He’s never stayed in such a wondrous place made of marble, and silk, and crystal chandeliers, and they’re wildly underdressed for such an occasion.

Though they shed their ornamental Sherwanis before the flight, that leaves them dressed in tunics and slacks, and Max has to fight the impulse to hide behind Ravi when the Concierge greets them with a chilly “Bonjour,” and a quirked eyebrow. 

He changes his tune as soon as Ravi gives the name of his parents, and then it’s all, “Ahhh! Of course!  _Of course_. Congratulations to the new couple. This way. This way, s’il vous plait.”

Max is curious about the special treatment, right up until they exit the private elevator on the seventh floor and enter the  _Belle Etoile Royal Suite_. Then it’s very obvious why the staff is falling over themselves to accommodate Max and Ravi.

It’s because the Lallas must have spent a small fortune on their room—or suite, rather, including a sitting room, dining room, walk-in closet, in addition to the bedroom and bathroom with its exquisite Italian marble. Max blinks dumbly when the Concierge introduces them to their personal chef in the kitchen, and explains  _Chef Allard_ is on call 24/7 for any of their meal needs. All they need to do is call the number on the card the Concierge hands to Ravi, and the chef will come up to the room and prepare their meals.

The master bedroom features a midnight-blue canopy, and the bathroom contains a whirlpool bath—not to mention the sights from their private terrace that has a 360° view extending from Notre Dame to the Musée d’Orsay, the Eiffel Tower to the Grand Palais; from Place de la Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe, and the Opera to the Sacré Coeur. Max spends a long time standing on the balcony, simply staring in awe at the sunset, while Ravi chats with the Concierge and chef to sort the details of their stay.

When the staff are gone, Ravi joins him on the terrace. The alpha wraps his arms around Max, and kisses his temple, while they gaze out at the Parisian landscape. “It’s so beautiful,” Max says eventually, leaning back against his mate—now husband—as he looks at the lights of the Eiffel Tower. Turning in the alpha’s arms, Max presses against Ravi’s chest, loops his arms around his neck, and smiles just before Ravi leans down to kiss him.

It occurs to him that is the first time they’ve really been alone since getting married, and Ravi must have the same idea, because his grip turns possessive when he deepens the kiss. His hands grip Max’s back, sliding down to the dip above his rear, and then finally gripping his ass. Smiling against Ravi’s mouth, Max laughs breathlessly. “Let’s go inside,” he suggests, and doesn’t even fully get the words out before Ravi grabs his hand and pulls him off the balcony.

They fall onto the bed right away—Max on his back, Ravi atop him, kissing hungrily, and divesting one another of their clothes. 

"You’re mine," Ravi breathes against his cheek, a mixture of worshipful and desirous, and Max can only nod in agreement.

"I’m yours," he whispers, pulling Ravi back down to kiss him.

The alpha is heavy atop him, but Max likes it. He feels grounded again being here with Ravi, and Max badly needs that anchor after the chaos of the wedding and honeymoon in two different countries. Ravi’s warm fingertips sneak under his tunic, and when they kiss again, the alpha pushes up the fabric so he can stroke Max’s stomach and chest.

Whimpering into Ravi’s mouth, Max squirms so he can open his legs and wrap them around his mate’s waist, and he obediently raises his arms when Ravi drags the tunic up and over his head. 

Max finds himself repeating where is he, and how he got here, just to keep himself centred:  _I’m with Ravi. We got married in India. Now we’re in France in a very expensive hotel. I can see the Eiffel Tower from our bed._

He stops grabbing and pulling at Ravi long enough to allow the alpha to shed his own tunic, and when they embrace again, it’s so much better because he can feel Ravi’s hot skin against his own, and the frantic beating of Ravi’s heart against his chest. Fingers furling in his thick curls, Max nips at Ravi’s lips, smiling when his mate’s hands untie his leggings and work them off his hips.

All the little lights in the Eiffel Tower flicker out, as do the massive spotlights by Arc de Triomphe—Sacré Coeur falls off its hilltop, and all of Paris fades away into the darkness of night. Max buries his face against Ravi’s neck, and breathes, and breathes, until his mate’s pheromones flood his nostrils, and the world ceases to exist.

Ravi reaches between his legs, and when his fingertips press against Max’s wet hole, he gasps and throws his head back. “Please,” he whispers, brow furrowed in an almost pained expression.

Soft, comforting murmurs flood his ears, and he knows it’s Ravi telling him it will be all right, and that the alpha is going to take care of him. As soon as his clothing is off, Max tries to turn and climb onto his knees, but Ravi keeps him pinned in place. The omega moans in frustration, but the exclamation breaks off into a strangled groan when Ravi pushes up his legs and sinks inside with one push.

Max bunches the expensive comforter and sheets in his hands, clawing and pulling as Ravi begins to thrust. The deep ache inside vanishes, and Max dutifully raises his hips as he moans, presenting himself to the alpha. Something hot and wet touches his cheek, and when he realizes it’s Ravi’s lips, he turns into the kiss, groaning throatily directly into his mate’s mouth. 

He’s clawing at Ravi’s back, but the alpha grabs his wrists suddenly, pins them above his head, and starts to fuck him harder. Max cries out so loudly that, if he was in a better state of mind, he’d worry about people down on the street hearing them.

Ravi is normally such a careful lover, and Max loves it, but he’s too shy to admit that he also loves when the alpha is like this—rough, domineering, and animalistic. The lewd, wet sound of Ravi claiming him fills the room, mingling with Max’s desperate cries. It’s so, so good—just shy of painful sometimes, when Ravi slams his hips forward and shoves Max across the bed.

He’s so hard—his cock trapped between their stomachs, the wonderful friction causing him to leak steadily against his abdominals. Ravi barely touches him and he comes, and he knows his body is locking around the alpha like a vise because his mate cries out, and his thrusts turn frantic.

Max clings to Ravi, moaning softly as the alpha fucks him. He’s so wet, and he knows his thighs and the comforter are covered with a sheen of moisture, but Ravi seems to enjoy it because his thrusts turn slow, and deep, and his mate groans loudly. “Oh..” Max whimpers, and even though it hurts a little because he’s just come and he’s feeling over-sensitive, it also feels incredible, being claimed.

"You’re mine," Ravi whispers again, and he shivers when the alpha rubs his cheek against Max’s face, and the stubble stings a bit.

He’s going to get hard again if Ravi keeps talking like this.

"Yes," he moans pitifully, turning his head and whimpering until Ravi, mercifully, kisses him. "Yes," he pants again, once they’ve separated.

Ravi pulls him off the wet spot and drags them up higher on the bed, so they’re positioned comfortably when the knot locks them together. Max’s cock gives a twitch of interest as Ravi grows inside him, and the alpha strokes him slowly until he’s fully hard. Ravi comes in warm waves, and Max gasps, coming for the second time when the alpha jerk him faster.

"Wow," Max laughs afterwards, when they’re still tied together.

Ravi chuckles warmly at his back. “Mhm..” he hums affirmatively.

***

Ravi apparently likes having Max in Paris—a lot. 

He spoils the omega rotten, insisting they ring the chef whenever Max experiences the slightest hint of hunger, and calling for a personal tailor to take their measurements, so they both have new clothing and jackets awaiting them the next day.

They don’t even get to sightsee for a couple days because they end up fucking on every available surface in the suite, including an adventurous romp in the whirlpool. As it turns out, Max bouncing enthusiastically on Ravi’s dick, in a full bath, results in a couple inches of water on the floor of the bathroom, and a rather awkward phone call to the front desk.

Once the cleaning staff fixes up the bathroom and leaves, Ravi bends Max over the sink and fucks him again, and this time there’s no messy cleanup.

Even the kitchen table sees a bit of action when the omega lays across it on his back, and drapes his ankles over Ravi’s shoulders—a vase of orchards rattling by his head, and Max singing in approval, as Ravi fucks him hard.

They’re passed out in a tangled mess on the bed when their hotel phone rings. Max gropes blindly for a couple seconds before he finds the receiver and pulls it off its cradle.

"Mmhello?" he murmurs.

"Jesus Christ, I’ve been calling for, like, an hour. Are we going sightseeing or what?"

Max furrows his brow and blinks slowly for a couple seconds before remembering where he is, and why Rose is yelling at him. “Oh, yeah,” he rasps, rubbing at his face and glancing over his shoulder to Ravi, who is passed out, lips slightly agape as he snores.

"Ugh, well, if you two can pry yourself apart for, say, an hour, I can show you some stuff," Rose sighs, sounding mildly disgusted, but also maybe faintly amused.

"Um…yeah…sure, yeah. Give us an hour."

Fast-forward ten minutes, and Max is gripping Ravi’s foot as he tries to physically drag the alpha out of bed. When his mate awakes fully, he smiles in amusement at the toiling omega. “May I be of assistance, my love?”

"We have to go meet Rose. She wants to show us around."

Ravi groans and throws back his head to the bed in a mini-temper tantrum. Max is sure his mate would be perfectly happy alternating between eating and making love their entire honeymoon (not that Max has any objections to that, per se). “Please?” he implores, pouting a little to seal the deal. “I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t see her at least once while we’re here.”

The alpha gives an exaggerated sigh, but he obediently climbs out of bed. “As you wish,” he says, grabbing Max’s hand, and pulling him along as he slips into the bathroom. “But you’re showering with me.”

Max laughs, and tries to pull his hand back, as though he’s actually trying to get away.

***

They’re late meeting Rose, and she offers up a very Arthurian scowl when they finally meet her outside the main entrance of the Tuileries Garden. 

"Sorry…sorry," Max apologises immediately, hugging his sister and following along when she kisses both his cheeks in a very European fashion.

"It was entirely my fault," Ravi adds, bending down a bit to follow the kiss-kiss tradition.

Rose smirks at the alpha. “I’m sure it was. Anyway, come on.”

Max has never seen Rose on her own turf in Paris, and he has to admit that his older sister seems extremely worldly in her element. She’s wearing a puce military-inspired jacket with distressed silver buttons and copper-tinted brocade cuffs, and a wine-colored skirt over dark stockings that disappear into knee-high black boots. Watching her cut a beeline through busy plazas, Max fully begins to appreciate how independent his sister is. Max never would have been able to carve out an autonomous life for himself, and had it not been for Ravi, he might have spent his whole life under the supervision of Arthur and Eames.

They check out the Eiffel Tower, and after much cajoling from his sister and husband, Max summons the courage to go to the top. Rose is so proud of him that she doesn’t even make fun of him when he spends the whole time clinging fearfully to the alpha, and he manages to flash a little smile when she takes a photo of them at the top. Once he’s sure he won’t plummet to his death, Max even enjoys himself (somewhat) when he looks at the breathtaking view.

Later, they walk over to The Louvre, and the museum is much more his speed. Max can handle the crowds because people are quiet in museums, and there isn’t a lot of chaotic movement, and also because Ravi holds his hand as they walk about. He even gets to see the Mona Lisa, which is a thrill because it’s an iconic piece of artwork, but also because he’s always found her serene, knowing smile very comforting.

He insists they check out the contemporary art wing, because apart from da Vinci, Max has always preferred post-modern art. He likes that it’s more subjective—like one painting can basically mean a million different things to a million different people, and no one person has the right answer for what it all means.

"I like this one," Max says definitively when they’re standing in front of one of the paintings.

Ravi frowns a bit. “Oh, priya.  _Really_?” he asks disbelievingly. “It’s a bit macabre, don’t you think?”

Rose sidles up to them and makes a face. “Yuck. It looks like someone slashed his face.”

Max shakes his head. “No, it symbolises the subject being torn apart.”

"Torn apart by what?" Rose asks, squinting at the little plaque beneath the painting: _Francis Bacon, ‘Study for Head of George Dyer.’_

"Drugs…alcohol," Max lists, gaze trailing across the painting. "The subject is George Dyer. He was a thief, and Bacon’s lover. They had a very tumultuous relationship."

Rose smirks. “Yeah, that happens when you mate with a thief.”

***

His sister insists they follow her back to Ariadne’s flat, her quasi-permanent residence, so they can enjoy a glass of wine and catch up properly. Max knows Ravi would much rather return to the opulent suit, and lose themselves in one another again, but he smiles accommodatingly when Rose brings up the idea, and says, “That would be lovely.”

"When are you going to get your own place?" Max asks innocently as they walk along a side street, which is apparently the wrong thing to say because she glares at her brother. 

"I’m working on it. I’m still in school, you know. Rent in Paris is expensive."

"Well, you could always move back in with Arthur and Eames," Max says, in what he thinks is a helpful suggestion, but judging by the murderous squint Rose offers him, he’s wrong.

Ariadne’s flat is huge, and encompasses the entire top floor, front-to-back of the gorgeous building that overlooks the 2nd arrondissement. There are three bedrooms, in addition to a large, open living room and gorgeous modern kitchen.

Rose shows them her room, which is beautiful with a fluffy white bed, love seat, and desk, and a private balcony veiled in billowy curtains. 

Then she pours them all a glass of wine in the kitchen, and when Max wonders aloud if Ariadne will mind they’re drinking her liquor, she waves away his concerns. “Ari is cool,” she says casually. “Besides, she won’t be home for another week.”

Ravi lifts the glass in a silent cheers and sips the wine. “Mm, quite good,” he says, nodding in approval.

Rose smiles around the rim of her glass and takes another generous gulp. 

Max sips at the wine delicately and offers a tightlipped smile in response. He’s not a big drinker—in fact, he won’t be able to drink legally for another year, but he’d drank a little at the wedding reception, and he supposes his honeymoon is a continuation of those festivities. 

"I want to show you guys something," Rose says suddenly. "But you can’t tell dad, or freak out, like you always do," she adds, looking directly at Max.

Max furrows his brow. “I don’t freak out.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. You can’t go running to Arthur and tell him everything.”

He feels his cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. “I don’t tell dad _everything_ ,” Max lies.

From behind the lip of her glass, Rose smiles devilishly. “Good. Then we won’t have a problem.”

***

Max and Ravi linger awkwardly in the doorway of Ariadne’s bedroom as Rose crawls around on her hands and knees on the floor by the side of the bed. 

"Should we be in here?" Max whispers, even though there’s no need to keep his voice lowered.

Rose glances back at him like he’s just asked the craziest question in the world. “Max, relax. Ari is like my sister.”

"She’s our aunt," he corrects, because they might be snooping, but that’s no need to throw civility out the window entirely.

"Aunt…friend…Whatever," Rose responds, speech slightly slurred from the plentiful amount of wine she’s been consuming. "Ah-ha!" she declares, pulling out a steel metal briefcase from under the bed and tossing it onto the top of the mattress. "Here it is."

Ravi and Max blink in unison, but the alpha cautiously walks forward into the room, while Max stays in the doorway. “What is it?” Ravi asks.

"I’ll show you," Rose says, flipping it open. 

Max doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the nest of buttons and wires. “It’s a machine?” he asks, frowning. He’s always trusted his sister, but he has a bad feeling about all of this. “Ravi, don’t,” he says when the alpha comes to a stop by the bed and peers down at it. The alpha has a scientist’s brain, which means he always wants to poke and prod mysteries until he has an answer.

Rose reaches into the case and pulls out a cord with a needle attached to the tip. “You trust me, right?” she asks Max.

Max frowns in response. “This isn’t a drug thing, right?” he asks hesitantly. 

Rose laughs. “Max, no! Well…I mean…there are these little tubs of yellow stuff, but it’s not, like, heroin.”

Ravi peers at the  _yellow stuff_ in question. “What is it, then?”

His sister huffs, apparently annoyed with all of the questions. “Look, I don’t know how to explain it, okay? I have to show you. And it’s safe. I’ve done it a bunch, and Ari must do it too, and she’s fine.”

She point at Ravi’s arm, and to his great surprise, his mate  _starts to roll up his shirt sleeve_. Max hurries into the room. “Ravi, no,” he says, this time grabbing the alpha’s arm to show he’s serious and means business. “You don’t know if it’s safe.”

That’s the problem with Ravi, though. He’s a scientist, who frequently doesn’t consider his own health when pursuing answers to life’s mysteries. Many times, Max has had to chastise him for staying too long at the lab, or forgetting to eat three meals a day. Ravi oftentimes casts safety out the window in pursuit of answers.

"It’s all right, priya," Ravi says, a gentle smile on his lips. "You heard Rose. She’s done it lots. I just want to see."

"Please don’t," Max pleads, his heart in his throat, tears welling up in his eyes. He feels hot and panicked, which means he’s seconds away from crying, and that will be very embarrassing to do in front of Rose (even though he was a weepy mess during the wedding too). 

Ravi cups his face. “Shh..It’s all right,” he whispers, kissing his brow. 

"Max, you don’t have to do it," Rose says sympathetically. "You can wait here, and Ravi and I will go under."

Max flushes in anger. He flashes back to when Rose and Jack would be going off on adventures, and Max was too scared to follow. Rose is using the exact same tone she used back then:  _Max, you don’t have to come._ Like he’s a baby, or something. Like Max is  _always_ the one who runs to Arthur and tells on everyone. Sure, maybe he did that when he was a little kid, but that’s not who he is anymore.

He’s not some pathetic omega, who clings to his father whenever the world frightens him. Now, Max goes to school, and has a handsome husband, and he got married in  _fucking India_ , so fuck Rose, and everyone else for thinking he’s some weak, helpless coward.

Quickly rolling up his sleeve, Max steps closer to the bed. “You put the needle in,” he says to Rose, and he feels deeply satisfied when his sister looks genuinely stunned.

They lay down on the floor in a circle around the metal briefcase, and Rose slides the needle into his vein after disinfecting it. It pinches a little, but the pain isn’t unbearable, and Max nods a little when she asks if he’s okay and comfortable.

Max looks to the side and sees Ravi gazing back at him, smiling encouragingly. “Strange business, hm?” his mate asks teasingly.

"So weird," Max agrees, hoping he sounds brave.

He watches Rose reach over and push an orange button in the center of the case.

Max sits up in the same place he was a moment before, on the floor in Ariadne’s room. He looks around, confused, and furrows his brow.  _Stupid Rose_. He should have known. The yellow stuff was expired, or a placebo, or something. She was just trying to seem cool and  _European_ , and now they’ve wasted time, when he could have been rolling around in bed with Ravi.

He stands up, which is when he realizes the steel case isn’t on the floor, nor are Ravi and Rose. 

"Hello?" he calls, wandering out of Ariadne’s room and down the hallway. He looks in Rose’s room, and then the living room, and finally the kitchen. Their wine glasses aren’t on the counter where they left them either.

Max wanders out onto one of the balconies and gazes down at the street.

Something is wrong.

There aren’t any people, and something else is weird. The colors. Everything looks too vibrant—like ever facade has been covered with a glossy coat of paint.

"Priya?" he hears, and nearly nosedives off the balcony when he scrambles to look down at the street and sees Ravi standing almost directly under his position.

"Hey!" Max cries. "Wait there!" 

He darts out of the apartment and down the stairs, and it only occurs to him at the last second that he’s forgotten his coat, but when he steps outside, the air is surprisingly humid—much warmer than he remembers it being earlier in the day.

"Where’s Rose?" he gasps, breathless from charging downstairs.

Ravi shakes his head helplessly, gazing around. “Where is  _everybody_?” he amends, which is a fair point.

"Hey!" Rose calls from down the street, as if hearing their frantic questions. She’s nothing more than a dot on the horizon, but Max immediately takes off in her direction. 

"What the hell is going on?" he pants, by the time he reaches his sister, and he hears Ravi’s footfalls immediately behind him.

Rose smiles manically, and points at a point on the horizon. “Watch,” she says, instead of providing an explanation, but Max obeys. 

Suddenly, the street elongates a few city blocks, and the ground rumbles when a fresh row of buildings springs from the earth like a bed of flowers. Max’s eyes widen and he stumbles backwards, partially colliding with Ravi, who rests a steady hand on the omega’s hip—probably to keep him from running away entirely. “What’s happening?” he shouts above the cacophony of noise.

When the buildings stand tall and solid, Rose turns and smiles at them. Her face is shining with exuberance. “It’s a dream,” she says simply.

"Lucid dreaming," Ravi says, voice filled with wonder, and when Max moves to the side, he sees his mate smiling. "I heard about this. But it’s illegal, isn’t it?"

Rose smirks, unconcerned. “Like everything fun, yes.” She shrugs, gazing up at one of the tall, pale buildings with baroque trellises. As Max watches, the windows seem to flicker, and when they solidify again, their trimming is a bit darker—charcoal instead of cobalt. It’s better—less cartoonish, and more real.

"You did that?" Max asks quietly.

Rose smiles proudly. “Yup. Took me forever, though. I used to come down here, and just walk around for hours. Then I got bored one day and started changing things. I can pretty much do anything now.”

"Anything?" Ravi asks. "Can you fly?"

Rose glares at the scientist—like he’s managed to find the one, tiny flaw in her otherwise pristine presentation. “I’d advise against doing anything too crazy. The people down here don’t like it.”

Max gazes up and down the abandoned streets. “What people?”

The beta shrugs begrudgingly. “There’s usually people. Maybe you guys scared them off.”

Max is about to counter with a stirring  _maybe_ ** _you_** _scared them off_  when suddenly Ravi disappears. It’s not like Max actually  _sees_ him vanish, but when he looks back over to where his mate was standing a split second ago, he’s simply not there.

"What—" he gasps, but Rose grabs his hand.

"Don’t panic," she order, which of course makes Max panic.

That’s when the people find them—a swarming, black horde on the horizon, sprinting towards them.

"Shit, run!" Rose cries, pulling Max along after her.

They run—Max pumping his legs, his lungs burn painfully from gasping for air. They run until his muscles feel like jello, and the road separates from his feet, and they’re falling. 

They’re falling.

***

Max awakes in the real world with a scream, and Rose and Ravi have to restrain him because he immediately tries to rip the IV from his arm. 

"Easy…easy…" Ravi soothes.

 _Ravi_.

"Where were you?" Max gasps, tears pouring from the corners of his eyes.

Ravi doesn’t appear to have an answer, but when he looks to Rose, the beta gazes back at him, guilt reflected in her eyes. “Oh, yeah,” Rose says. “Sorry about that. I haven’t figured out the dosages yet. Ravi is bigger. He probably needs more of the yellow stuff.”

Max glares at her, and she sighs, reaching out to gently touch his forehead. “Sorry, Max. I’m trying to ration the stuff. I don’t know where to get more of it, and Ari will kill me if I use it all.”

Sitting up slowly, Max leans against Ravi as the alpha carefully withdraws the IV. “I thought you said Aunt Ariadne is  _like your sister_ ,” Max grouses, still feeling slightly burnt that his sister neglected to share that she doesn’t  _really_ understand what she’s doing with the metal thingy.

"Well, yeah," Rose says, winding the lines back inside the case and disinfecting the needles. "But this is, like, illegal, and stuff. I don’t want Ari to get in trouble, and also…" Rose trails off, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Max watches her warily. He has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What?”

Rose sighs as she flips the case shut. “Look, Max…If Ari is into this stuff, I have a feeling so are Arthur and Eames.”

"No," Max says immediately, climbing to his feet. "No way. They wouldn’t do anything illegal." 

His sister is doing that annoying thing where she’s looking at him like he’s two-years-old again, or at the very least, the most naive person in the room. “Max, what about when Jack got kidnapped?”

Max feels hot all over in the way he used to get when Jack was really being cruel picking on him. The anger would build and build, and then he’d lash out unthinkingly, which was always the dumbest possible thing to do because Jack is so much stronger than him. He hates that Rose is saying this stuff about their dads. Arthur and Eames would  _never_ break the law. They didn’t even let the kids stay out past curfew!

"Those were just some…guys," Max says helplessly, trying to remember the official story Arthur told them. "That’s what Jack said," he adds, like it’s his ace in the hole.

Rose sighs. “Jack barely remembers what happened, but he told me recently he thinks this thing was there when those guys took him,” she says, patting the metal case. “He says they all dreamed together.”

Max freezes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Did Jack go under with you?”

Frowning at him, Rose slowly stands. “A couple times, but Max—”

He turns and stalks from the room. Max walks directly into the kitchen where his jacket is draped across the back of a chair with Ravi’s coat. Sliding into the coat, Max angrily zips up the front and glares at his sister when she hurries over to him. 

"Max…" she starts, helplessly.

"No,  _stop_ ,” he says, enough of an edge in his voice to startle Rose into silence. Max hardly ever raises his voice to his sister, or anyone, for that matter. “You’re saying all of this weird stuff about our dads, and you’re doing this shady stuff with Jack, and…I don’t like it,” he says, frowning at Ravi when his mate emerges from the bedroom to stand beside Rose in the kitchen.

"Priya…" the alpha begins gently. "Isn’t it possible you don’t know everything about your family?"

Apparently emboldened by Ravi’s statement, Rose takes a step forward. “There are hardly any photos of them, Max. I mean, there are a couple, but not as many as there should be, considering how long they’ve known each other. Also, I checked the military records, and unless they had different names, they never served at the same time like they claimed.”

Max swallows thickly. He feels lightheaded, and so he pulls the chair out a little and sits down. Ravi hurries over to him and places a comforting hand on his upper back. Their fathers always said they’d met whilst serving in their respective units.

"And Jack said Eames once told him they met  _in a dream_ ,” Rose says, brows arched high on her forehead.

Max scowls, but it’s a weak rebuttal. “That’s just…him being romantic.”

"Right,  _or_ ,” Rose scoffs, gesturing back into the bedroom where Max can see the metal case propped up on the bed. “They worked in lucid dreaming together.” Now that she’s got the attention of both Ravi and Max, Rose appears to be on a roll. “And you know what? I think everyone is involved: our dads and Ari, but also your uncle,” she says, pointing at Ravi, “and Uncle Dom, too.”

Max gapes at her. “You sound crazy,” he whispers, but he’s not really convinced she is.

"Why?" Rose laughs. "It makes sense, doesn’t it? They’ve never told us a convincing story for how they all know each other, and remember when dad beat the shit out of that guy who tried to kidnap you at the fair? How did he learn to fight like that?"

"He’s an alpha. All alphas can fight like that," Max says, frowning deeply.

Rose shakes her head. “Not all alphas. Eames has been trained. Arthur, too. How many omegas do you know that act like dad?”

For once, Max can’t even summon an articulate answer. He has no answer for that question because it’s true—his father is unlike any omega he’s ever met. 

"Max…" Rose begins gently, squatting in front of her brother so she can carefully cradle his hands and gaze up at his face. "When those guys took Jack, they were _shooting_  at us, remember?” 

Max does remember, but only vaguely. He was so little, and terrified, but he does remember sitting in the back seat of Eames’ car, and screaming when something—a bullet—blew out the rear windshield. “Yeah,” he answers quietly, and Rose squeezes his hands.

"Why were they shooting at us?"

Max doesn’t know why. He imagines most kidnappers don’t come out guns blazing like that. “I don’t know,” he whispers, gaze downcast. Ravi’s hand squeezes his shoulder gently.

He thinks back to all the vague details his fathers have offered over the years: the dubious claims Arthur has made about being a business consultant, who apparently barely needs to consult because he was home and available much of the kids’ lives. Max tries to remember if they ever got an official story for how Arthur knows their Uncle Dom, or when he met Aunt Ariadne, and he realizes his dads never supplied one. Dom and Ariadne have just always  _been there_. 

"So isn’t it possible we might not know everything about them?" Rose asks.

"Fine," Max finally concedes, chin lifting so he can look his sister in the eyes. "Let’s say you’re right. What now?"

Rose face lights up when it seems like Max finally believes her crazy theories. She sits back on her heels. “Now, we go talk to our dads.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dreamshare has changed quite a bit over the past couple decades.

 

Naturally, Eames kept abreast of industry gossip, major news, busts, and the like, but that casual surveillance by no means braced him for the reality of the situation. For starters, he and Arthur (and Cobb) are the oldest members of the team by about thirty years, and the other two prats, Steven, the architect, and Dai, the chemist, apparently have never heard the adage about _age_ and _wisdom_ because they've done nothing but treat their elders as incompetents.

 

After the wedding, Cobb had left them (deliberately, Eames thinks,) with the impression that Ariadne and Yusuf would also be on the job, but Yusuf, the bastard, pulled out at the last minute to take a higher paying job, and Ariadne apparently never committed to the deal at all.

 

Steven nearly snorts when Arthur examines his PASIV with open reverence, flipping the case open to peer inside. It's the newest model, and it looks bloody strange, in Eames' opinion. He squints mistrustfully over Arthur's shoulder, examining all the new levers and buttons. Back in his day, there used to be a big orange button in the middle, but that's gone—replaced with several smaller buttons and switches.

 

"It's to control the dream times and dosages," Steven remarks, nearly rolling his eyes, like Arthur and Eames are a couple of slack-jawed yokels. "You know, for different dream lengths?" 

 

"We used to shoot ourselves out of dreams," Arthur answers.

 

Steven eyes him warily. "Well…you don't have to do that anymore."

 

"Where's the fun in that?" Eames asks, grinning.

 

Eames is no great fan of Cobb, but even he hates the way the two younger team members fail to treat the man with an ounce of respect—even though he's leading this operation, and along with Miles and Mal, practically invented dreamshare. During team meetings, Steven and Dai mummer among themselves, and when they're not doing that, Steven stares off into space, and Dai doodles in his notebook, and not in a productive way, like Arthur. 

 

Eames once caught him drawing an unflattering cartoon of Cobb.

 

He wants to bat the other alphas' ears and tell them to straighten up and fly right, but he's sure Cobb wouldn't approve of that. He'd say things like _team-building_ and _morale_ , or something.

 

Where Cobb kept his word is the job description itself. He'd promised Arthur and Eames a safe, easy job their first time back, and that's exactly what he's provided—almost to the point of absurdity. Their client is an elderly woman, Miriam Scott, who wants Cobb and his team to enter a dream with her husband, William, who suffers from Alzheimer's. Miriam needs certain details about bank accounts, wills, and the like, and her husband is no longer capable of providing that information, so their job is to extract.

 

It's a job they could do with both hands tied behind their backs, and yet Arthur dutifully jots down notes in his moleskin, and gazes at Cobb with all due seriousness and earnestness, like they're back in the Inception days. 

 

Watching Arthur has been the one small joy of the job. 

 

Before departing for the UK, Arthur had sat down Eames, and gravely explained to him that they would need to be professionals while working, meaning Eames isn't allowed to be cheeky (well, anymore than normal,) and no one can know they're married. The latter point makes sense to Eames—all sorts of unsavoury bastards in dreamshare would use their status as mates and parents against them. 

 

But the rest of Arthur's plan feels like overkill. Arthur even sprayed cologne everywhere to conceal Eames' scent on his skin, which the alpha takes as a personal slight.

 

The first opportunity he gets, he's going to roll all over Arthur's suits and mark them for life.

 

If he's perfectly honest with himself, Eames enjoys the playacting. It feels a bit like when they first met, and Arthur was just the pretty little omega point man with the lovely French cuffs. Even when Eames casually flirts with Arthur, the point man shoots him scowls that make Eames feel giddy and nostalgic, and he knows it's definitely like the old days when Dai pauses from mixing chemicals, rolls his eyes, and mutters: "Jesus, _get a room_."

 

"Shall we, darling? I'll be gentle. I promise," Eames says, feet propped up on his desk, file open in his lap as he grins across the room at Arthur.

 

"In your dreams, Mr. Eames," Arthur replies, beautiful and icy as he gazes down at his papers.

 

Cobb is jotting something on the chalkboard, but judging by the way his shoulders quake, he's laughing at Eames' expense.

 

***

Since the job is so painfully easy (Eames only has to forge two people: William's daughter and an old business associate,) and Arthur made it very clear he's not allowed to spend the night in the same room as him, Eames occupies himself with other endeavours.

 

Namely, trying to remember how to gamble.

 

The Scotts live in a sprawling estate in Mount Charleston, about an hour outside of Las Vegas, which is where the team's home base is located inside a swank strip hotel, complete with a ground floor casino. Cobb deliberately dropped that detail in Eames' presence, and the forger tried not to let his eyes light up like a slot machine, but he probably wasn't very successful. 

 

Eames hasn't gambled in a very long time—not since marrying Arthur, and he's rusty.

 

You see, gambling isn't just about an ability to count cards, but it also involves finesse, bravery, courage, and acting skills. Eames is sure, the second he arrives at the five-card stud table, all the other gamblers will take one look at him and peg him as a man who has spent the better part of a decade changing nappies. 

 

He tries to remember how he carried himself all those years ago—the swagger, the general sense of condescending indifference. Eames sheds the skin of a happily married man, a father to three children, and settles back into the flesh of a sketchy louse with nothing to lose.

 

He loses five straight turns.

 

Eames calmly stands up with his meager handful of chips, walks directly to the bar, and slams back a tumbler of whiskey. When he's settled down a bit, and his heart stops hammering in his chest, he counts his chips, steels himself, and returns to the table.

 

Affecting a nonchalance he certainly doesn't feel, Eames antes in, and proceeds to destroy the rest of the table for six straight hands.

 

He's up a couple thousand dollars when he sheds his suit jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and grins at the dealer. 

 

"It's good to be back," he says to the dead-eyed, over-tanned woman, who says nothing in return.

 

***

 

Eames is drunk and flushed with adrenaline from winning five figures at the table when he decides it'd be a very good idea to pay Arthur a visit.

 

It's true that Arthur explicitly said to stay away, but the way Eames sees things, he wouldn't have listened to Arthur all those years ago, so why should he start now? If anything, it would be suspicious if he _didn't_ try to get in the point man's knickers.

 

With that solid logic in mind, Eames rides the elevator up to the eleventh floor, spending the journey slumped against the mirrored wall until he hears a little _ding_ and the doors slide open.

 

He thinks Arthur's room is 1134, but when he knocks on the door, an elderly, sour-faced man answers, and then is very rude when Eames slurs: "S'Arthur here?"

 

"No!" the man spits, slamming the door in Eames' face.

 

_Rude_.

 

Maybe Arthur's room is 1143. Eames walks in a zigzag down the hallway until he reaches the door and then knocks in a way so Arthur will know it's him. _Shave and a haircut…_

 

Thank God, it's Arthur's lovely face that appears in the doorway and not another angry octogenarian.

 

"Arthur!" Eames cries happily. "Oh, thank Christ, love. I thought you were cheating on me with an old man."

 

Arthur's brow is very furrowed when he peers out into the hallway and glances around. "Lower your voice," he whispers before grabbing Eames by the elbow and pulling him into the room. "What're you talking about?" he asks after shutting the door.

 

"Doesn't matter," Eames mumbles, stumbling towards the big, white fluffy bed. 

 

He collapses onto the mattress and groans loudly at the ceiling. 

 

"You're drunk," Arthur states factually, but he doesn't sound angry, and when Eames strains to look at him, he sees the omega smirking at him.

 

"You're sexy," Eames counters, which doesn't seem to impress the point man because he rolls his eyes and returns to the couch. There are papers spread all over the coffee table, and with a high degree of horror, Eames realizes Arthur is _working_. "Darling, is all that necessary?"

 

Sitting on the edge of the couch, Arthur glances up at him. "I like to be prepared for any eventuality. You know that."

 

Eames frowns, but it's true. He does know that. Instead, he tries pivoting. "I had great luck at the tables, love."

 

"How much did you lose?" Arthur asks, scribbling on one of the sheets and then moving it to a different pile.

 

He might actually squeak in outrage when he answers: " _Won_ , thank you very much. You should ask how much I _won_. Cheeky monkey."

 

Eames forgets to be mad when Arthur smiles slowly and one of his dimples appears. "Oh, forgive me. How much did you _win_ , Mr. Eames?"

 

When the forger answers with a lengthy silence, Arthur stops writing and looks up.

 

He's flushed in the face from too much drink, tie hanging loosely around his neck, when he sighs loudly. "I missed you calling me that."

 

Something resembling fondness creeps across Arthur's face, and he slowly caps the pen and stands up. Eames watches the omega languidly approach, before finally reclining onto his side across the bed. "You should go sleep," he whispers, reaching out to push an errant strand of hair off Eames' burning forehead.

 

"Mmno," Eames hums, eyes very nearly fluttering shut at Arthur's touch. "Would rather have sex with you," he answers.

 

Arthur grins and laughs for some reason, even though Eames was just being honest, but he smiles in return because Arthur's laugh is lovely, and his smile is lovely.

 

"Thanks," Arthur says, and Eames wonders if he said that last part out loud. "But you should go sleep." 

 

"What's the harm in one little shag?" Eames asks, pouting. "No one will know, and you've been so cruel, sending me away to that big empty bed."

 

The omega silences him with a kiss, but when Eames reaches for him, Arthur climbs off the bed. "Not while we're on the job. That was the deal," he answers—cool and calm, which frustrates Eames, who moans in response. He's too hot, and half-hard in his trousers, and Arthur is a terrible cocktease.

 

"I'm going to fuck you in the airport _and_ on the plane when this is over," Eames threatens, but the menace in his voice only makes Arthur grin.

 

"I'll hold you to that," he says. 

 

Just then, the hotel phone rings. Arthur frowns, and Eames watches as he reaches over to answer it. "Hello?" Arthur says, and then his frown deepens when whoever is on the other line begins babbling. "Wait, slow down—Rose what?"

 

Instantly, Eames feels sober. He sits up quickly, the soles of his shoes pressing into the carpet as he watches Arthur closely. He's always been very good at reading the omega—Arthur is a bit crap at wearing a neutral mask—but there are too many expressions to keep track of. Arthur goes from confused, to terrified, to shocked in a matter of seconds. "Hold on. Max. Max, Listen to me. You don't know the whole story. Rose doesn't know—No, she doesn't know everything. Where are you?"

 

Eames stands up, and is wildly proud he only sways a little on his feet.

 

"Stay there. We're coming to you. Don't touch the machine again," he says and quickly hangs up the phone. "Job's off," Arthur states plainly, immediately moving to gather the papers from the table.

 

"What the hell is going on?" Eames asks.

 

For a second, he thinks Arthur won't answer him, and he's simply expected to return to his room and begin packing, but then the omega pauses and looks at him—papers cradled in his arms. "Rose used Ariadne's PASIV. With Max."

 

Eames stares at him, speechless. For so long, his two worlds, dreamshare and his family, have been kept separate that his brain can't really make sense of the two forces colliding. "Are they okay?" he asks.

 

"Yes, thank God," Arthur says, and for the first time, Eames sees he's upset. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glassy. "I'm going to kill Rose," he mutters, stuffing the papers into a file and then jamming the file into his laptop case. "I can't believe she'd be this stupid, and to involve _Max_ …"

 

"Max went under?" Eames parrots dumbly. He tries to make sense of that. Max is normally so timid and afraid to try new things. Even if Rose insisted, Max usually bolts at the first sign of danger. Unless… "Fuck, Ravi went under too," Eames groans.

 

Arthur pauses, chin snapping up. "How do you know that?"

 

Eames throws his hands up weakly. "Why else would Max go under?"

 

What a mess. 

 

He watches Arthur pack up his room, and Eames knows he should hurry to his own room—maybe forego the elevator and take the stairs to save time, but he can't will his legs to work. "What do they know?" he asks instead.

 

Arthur pulls his suits out of the closet and tosses them unthinkingly into his suitcase. They'll be wrinkled and damaged, but Arthur doesn't seem to care, which is how Eames knows this is _really_ bad. "Well, apparently Rose knows how to use the PASIV, and she can build inside a dream, and Max thinks we're criminals."

 

"We _are_ criminals," Eames answers, apparently the wrong thing to say, because Arthur glares at him from his spot crouched on the floor.

 

"Yeah, but our kids shouldn't know that, Eames."

 

Eames nods slowly. Now is not the time to pick a fight with Arthur. "Yes…well…damage is done."

 

He watches the back of Arthur's dark head when his mate bows it and stares at the terribly messy pile of clothes inside his suitcase. "There's something else you should probably know."

 

Eames sighs, palming his face and rubbing a little, hoping in vain that it might sober him up a little. It does not. "What is it?"

 

Arthur stands slowly, gaze locked on his suitcase, hands on his hips like he can't quite figure out how to phrase what comes next, which fills Eames with an immediate sense of dread. 

 

"They took the PASIV to Max and Ravi's, and Max says….Jack has gone under too, and…" Arthur stumbles, refusing to look Eames in the eyes, so he knows what's coming next is big—bigger than the sprogs knowing about dreamshare, bigger than Max knowing they're both criminals. A tiny part of his brain already know what's coming next, but it can't communicate the message to the rest of his mind, so he's nonetheless surprised when Arthur finishes: "Jack can forge."


	4. Chapter 4

Max feels fairly confident in his sense of moral superiority right up until Arthur storms into their home like a furious force of nature. They'd laid out the steel briefcase on the coffee table, opened and pointed accusatorially towards the staircase so it would be the first thing Arthur and Eames see when they ascend the steps. But that seems like a grave miscalculation the second his father actual appears—wide, dark eyes blazing, collar undone, hair wild as he first stares at the machine, and then each of his children—burning them under the intensity of his stare.

 

Eames stands behind Arthur, panting for breath, giving the impression that they perhaps sprinted the entire way from Nevada to Massachusetts. He doesn't look angry like Arthur, but rather a bit lost and distressed, like he's watching something fall apart, and he's not sure he'll be able to catch all the pieces—let alone put the thing back together again.

 

For the first time, Max feels a little guilty. Yes, his fathers are criminals, but he is also the one who used the machine without Ariadne's permission, and then went into the dream, which in itself was incredibly dangerous and stupid of him. He'd just been so angry that he wasn't thinking clearly, but now, seeing the mixture of sadness and disappointment on Eames' face, Max wonders if this confrontation was a dumb idea.

 

Jack, who arrived yesterday, sits on the couch, his head bowed, as if he's afraid to even look at Arthur and Eames. Ravi stands betweens his fathers and Max, and he tries to subtly shrink behind the larger frame of his mate. 

 

Yes, this was definitely a dumb, _dumb_ idea.

 

Outside, a car door slams shut, and Rose glances out the window. "You brought Uncle Dom with you?" she cries, turning to glare at Arthur.

 

"Of course we did," Arthur spits back, his tone so cutting that it immediately silences his sister.

 

"Your Aunt Ari too," Eames adds quietly, rubbing slowly at his jaw where there's a couple day's worth of stubble. "We need to talk about this."

 

Moments later, the blond head of his uncle emerges from the stairwell, and his aunt trails close behind him, looking exactly like the cat who ate the canary the second she lays eyes on the machine. Cobb sighs loudly, as if he didn't, until that very moment, believe the story Arthur had told him. Again, Max feels a sharp pang of guilt when he sees is uncle's weary face.

 

"You kept it _under your bed_?" Arthur hisses by way of greeting. 

 

Ariadne, who is already a slight woman, seems to shrink several inches under the weight of the chastisement. "I didn't think they'd snoop _in my room_ , Arthur," she shoots back, and Max sees Rose drop her chin to her chest.

 

"Stop," Cobb intervenes, holding up his hand, and the room goes silent. His uncle looks to the sheepish cluster comprised of his nephews and niece. "I want to know what happened when you went under. Who built the dream?"

 

"I did," Rose murmurs, partially reclined on the window sill, which coincidentally is also the farthest possible spot away from Arthur. 

 

"What did you build?" Cobb asks, brow furrowed.

 

Rose shrugs. "Just the block outside Ari's—"

 

"You shouldn't do that," Arthur interrupts. "You should _never_ build from memory," he adds emphatically.

 

Max can't remember the last time he saw his father look so undone. Maybe the last time he and Jack got in a really serious fight.

 

"Why?" Rose asks hotly, and Max wishes she would just shut up and act like she's actually sorry for stealing Aunt Ari's machine.

 

Cobb sighs. "You can lose your grip on reality…get lost in the dream. Only use parts of memories, but never the whole thing. Change enough so it's not an exact replication."

 

Rose eyes her uncle thoughtfully, but she eventually nods. "Okay. Fine. I'll do that next time."

 

"There won't be a next time!" Arthur barks, and Eames immediately reaches to grip his mate's arm, squeezing it.

 

All three of them, Max, Rose, and Jack, flinch in response to Arthur's harsh tone. Their father rarely yells at them. 

 

Of all the elders, Cobb seems the calmest, like he's viewing a scientific formula. Max recognizes the expression because Ravi looked the same way when eyeing the machine for the first time. "And Max? You went under?" he asks, leaning over a bit so he can see the omega, who is hiding behind Ravi.

 

Max's face feels hot, and he knows he's blushing furiously, but he tentatively meets his uncle's gaze and nods. 

 

"Did you know you were dreaming?" he asks.

 

For the first time, Arthur doesn't shout something angrily. He still looks furious, but also a little curious to hear his youngest's response. Eames takes a silent step forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Arthur as he awaits Max's response.

 

"Um…yeah, I knew," he murmurs.

 

"Right away?" Cobb asks.

 

Max thinks back to the dream—to the too bright colors and abandoned streets. He nods. "Yeah, more or less. Something felt weird about it."

 

A bright smile breaks out across Cobb's face. "Amazing. Just like Arthur. Your dad always knows when he's in a dream right away."

 

Max dares to peek out around Ravi and sees Arthur gazing back at him—his posture less rigid, shoulders deflated a bit. When he glances down, he sees Eames squeeze Arthur's hand comfortingly. 

 

"And you?" Cobb asks, looking at Jack. "I hear you have quite a parlour trick."

 

His brother nervously cracks his knuckles, but smirks a little in response. "Uh, yeah. I guess."

 

As soon as the attention is off him, Max shuffles to the side a bit so he can see everyone. Eames' attention is fixated on his brother, hanging on his every word. Max has never seen Jack's trick firsthand, but he heard about it from Rose.

 

The whole room stares at Jack, so he continues: "Um…I can sort of…change. I can look like other people."

 

"You can forge," Eames says, face lighting up so that now both he and Cobb are eyeing Jack like he's the most fascinating creature on the planet. Even Arthur looks like he forgets to be mad for a split second.

 

"Uh…" Jack responds, unsure of how to respond to his father's excitement.

 

"That's a very rare talent," Cobb supplies helpfully. "Can you just change your face, or the whole body?"

 

"Um…" Jack hums, looking to his sister, the only witness to his talent, for a little support.

 

"He changed his whole body," Rose says, folding her arms across her chest. "We were in the dream, and he said that Max would love seeing this, and when I turned around to answer him, he looked just like Max."

 

Cobb nods slowly. "Interesting. So you just thought of your brother and became him?"

 

Jack pops another knuckle. "Um, yeah. I guess."

 

When Cobb looks at Eames, they're both smiling like lunatics. "Brilliant. That took me _years_ to work out," Eames laughs, missing the moment when Arthur glares warningly at him.

 

"True, but he may have only been able to replicate Max because he knows him so well. Jack…" Cobb says, turning back to his brother. "If I showed you a photo of a stranger, do you think you could forge them like you did Max?"

 

"Uh…" Jack says, glancing from Cobb to Arthur.

 

"Rubbish. I'll bet you can forge anyone," Eames responds, defensive on Jack's behalf.

 

"Hey!" Arthur barks suddenly, startling Cobb and Eames out of their competitive haze. "No one is forging anything. We're supposed to be scaring them straight, remember?"

 

"Arthur…" Ari sighs, reaching up to adjust the scarf tied around her throat. "It's not that simple. You know how it is. Once you start dreaming…you don't want to stop."

 

"Yeah, well, I'm not giving them the option," Arthur says, walking over to the machine and flipping it shut. "This is over."

 

"You can't tell us what to do," Rose says brazenly. "We're adults now."

 

Max shrinks behind Ravi again when his father's military posture returns and he fixates his glare on Rose. "Let's see how adult you are when I cut you off," he spits.

 

"Easy.." Eames interrupts, holding up his hands. "No one say anything they're going to regret later."

 

"Arthur…" Cobb says, tone mild and pleasant—enough to snare Arthur's attention and deflate some of the tension from his shoulders. "There are lots of legal applications for dreamshare, and your children exhibit rare talents. If Rose is interested in the business, isn't it a good idea we train her as opposed to some of the more…colourful characters we've encountered?"

 

Arthur swallows thickly as he gazes at Cobb, but he nods a little before looking at his daughter. "If I take this, you'll just run out and try to find another one, won't you?"

 

Rose raises her chin a little in defiance, and in that moment, she is truly Arthur's daughter. "Yup."

 

His father smirks, shaking his head a little. "And you?" he asks Jack.

 

The alpha shrugs slowly. "I really liked it. It's fun, you know? I think…I'd really like to see what else I can do down there."

 

Perhaps feeling emboldened because Arthur's back is turned to him, Eames smiles brightly.

 

Arthur's face is a little pale, but he doesn't look angry when he searches until he can meet Max's gaze. "Max?"

 

Shaking his head a little, Max says: "I don't want to. And I don't want Ravi to either."

 

Ravi turns slightly so he can meet Max's gaze, and he's relieved to see his mate smile softly. "That's fine by me. But I'm curious about the yellow stuff in the case. What is it?"

 

Arthur places the case on the table again and flips it open. "It's called Somnacin. Your uncle brewed this batch."

 

Ravi warily approaches the case. "I'd like to…take a sample, if that's okay. Maybe I can help in the lab…get rid of that hangover effect."

 

"Mate, if you can do that, I'll make you our own personal chemist," Eames snorts. "Been having bloody headaches for _years_ from Yusuf's stuff."

 

Arthur plucks out one of the vials and hands it to Ravi. "Don't use the whole thing. Just a little."

 

Gaze bordering on worshipful, Ravi cradles the vial and nods quickly. "No, not the whole thing," he murmurs, peering at the yellow liquid as if it's some divine elixir. "Just a little."

 

Max sighs, but remains quiet. After all, he supposes he should be grateful Ravi just wants to tinker with the yellow stuff, Somnacin, but no longer appears to be obsessed with the idea of entering the dreams.

 

"Arthur…" Cobb interjects, interrupting the familial moment. "I'd really like to go under with Rose and Jack to see what they can do. With your permission, of course."

 

The alpha slips his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, a passive gesture—perhaps to show Arthur he's still in control of the situation, and could still revoke the offer if he wishes.

 

His uncle's relationship with Arthur has always been a source of curiosity for Max. Clearly, his father loves Cobb very much, but there's always been an undercurrent of tension between them that Max has never fully understood. Now, the uneasiness is back, churning between them like a storm front, and even though his father is an omega, the species built for submission, he clearly wields all the power here. For some reason, Cobb trusts Arthur enough to surrender his authority, even though they're not mates.

 

Arthur looks at Jack and then Rose, and sighs before he turns to Eames. "What do you think?"

 

Eames shrugs his broad shoulders. "I think if Jack is half as stubborn as me, and Rose is anywhere near as stubborn as you, they're going to go under again anyway. They'll find a way. Remember, that's what we did."

 

Arthur nods and gazes at the wood floor for a beat before he speaks. "You need to find a small totem—an object to keep in your pocket that will help you distinguish between the dream and reality." He fishes a small, red die out of his pocket. "This is mine. Don't let anyone else touch your totem."

 

Rose squints at the die, but she nods affirmatively. 

 

"You won't dream anymore…not natural dreams, anyway," Arthur adds with a sigh. "Other than that, there doesn't appear to be any longterm health consequences, apart from the headaches Eames mentioned."

 

Furrowing his brow, Max stares at his father. Even though he now knows Rose was right about everything, and their fathers are indeed criminals in dreamshare, he still can't make sense of this. He can't reconcile the image of his warm, caring fathers with the idea of hardened criminals. 

 

"What do you do…when you do this…stuff?" Max asks softly.

 

Arthur turns to him, and when their eyes meet, his father looks so exhausted and weary that Max temporarily forgets to be angry. "I run point," he says succinctly, but when Max responds with a blank stare, he adds: "I plan everything."

 

"He's the best," Cobb adds supportively.

 

Max takes that in for a moment and then looks at Eames, who is apparently prepared for the question because he speaks before Max has to ask anything: "I'm like Jack. I forge…and I can extract, if need be."

 

"You steal people's thoughts," Max says, partly to let the idea sink in for himself, and also to dispose of pleasant euphemisms and cut to the chase.

 

"We used to," Cobb says, nodding a little. "But there are honest ways to use the skills too. Legal ways."

 

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Max shakes his head. He doesn't understand how everyone is moving on with this information so quickly. It's like Jack and Rose are not only totally cool with the idea their dads used to be thieves, but now _they_ want to be thieves too. It feels like he woke up one day to find everyone in his life has gone completely insane. "So…the whole time you were telling us not to stay out past curfew, and stuff, you had this secret life…"

 

"Ducky…" Eames begins quietly.

 

But he doesn't want to hear more lies, or tricky reasoning to make him believe the lies were necessary. "You guys have fun. I'm going to lay down," he says, walking towards the bedroom. He doesn't look back, and closes the door behind him.

 

***

 

Ravi clears his throat. "I'm just going to…" he says, gesturing towards the bedroom.

 

Arthur nods in understanding. "Yeah, of course."

 

The rest of the room remains silent until Ravi disappears, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Then, Cobb clears his throat and Arthur rolls his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake," he mumbles, walking over to the PASIV and pulling out one of the lines. "Just get on with it. I can feel your giddiness from here."

 

Cobb chuckles as he slips out of his jacket and tosses it over the couch armrest. "You know me too well," he says agreeably, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. 

 

"I take it you're going under too…" Arthur says, glancing at Eames, who doesn't need to answer because he's also stripping out of his coat.

 

"You know me, darling. Always up for an adventure," he says as he kneels by the table and rolls his shirtsleeve. 

 

Arthur nods. "Right, I'm going too," he says, glancing to Ariadne.

 

"Oh yeah, I'll stay up top," she says quickly, rushing forward, clearly abundantly grateful Arthur has acknowledged her presence in a non-hostile way for the first time. "Arthur, I'm really sorry," she adds under her breath.

 

Arthur waves away the apology. "It's done. Let's just move past it," he says as he hands her a line and offers her his arm.

 

Ariadne has always been the best at inserting the IV, and she apparently still possesses that talent because she smoothly pushes the needle into Arthur's vein without the omega so much as wincing. 

 

"All right then," Cobb says brightly, smiling once Ariadne also hooks up Rose and Jack to the machine. "This…" he says, tapping the case, "is a PASIV. Please don't call it _the machine_ anymore."

 

Rose smirks in response. "What does PASIV mean?"

 

"Portable Automated Somnacin Intravenous Device," Arthur responds quickly.

 

"Oh, that's another thing we forgot to mention. Your father is a robot with this stuff. If you ever have a question, ask Arthur," Eames adds, grinning cheekily. 

 

Arthur tries not to feel annoyed by how pleased Eames seems with all of this. He knows his mate is feeling reflexive fatherly pride that their first-born shows a natural talent for forging, but still, he should at least _try_ to seem pissed off the kids went behind their backs.

 

Ariadne checks on Cobb's line even though it's clearly already in place, and her fussing over him is superfluous. Cobb gazes up at her, a small, grateful smile hanging on his lips that causes the beta to flush a bit. She covers nicely, though, when she straightens and sunnily declares: "All set. You guys ready?"

 

"Punch it," Eames responds, laying out on the carpet squared beneath the coffee table.

 

Arthur watches Jack rest his head on the back of the couch, and Rose lay down on the floor so her head is by Eames'. He sighs and lies down at well, blinking once, twice, before everything goes dark.

 

Had he been in a better frame of mind, Arthur probably would have remembered his old training that includes always securing the perimeter, regardless of ostensibly safe surroundings. A clear-headed Arthur would have, at the very least, looked outside to make sure they hadn't been followed.

 

If he'd done that, he might have seen the black sedan with the tinted windows parked out front.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose stands in the hallway of a hospital. 

 

She only just narrowly manages to dart out of the way when a group of nurses charges towards her, pushing a bed carrying a man with a bandaged head wound. 

 

"Excuse us, doctor," one of the nurses says when they pass.

 

When she looks down, Rose sees she's wearing a white lab coat with a name tag that reads: "Dr. Stevens." Rose considers the small plate for a moment, and then the coat again, and she remembers: _This is a dream._

 

The florescent lights above her head dim, and then flicker out, one by one, down the hallway. She follows the remaining light until it leads her to the last room at the end of the corridor. Inside, Uncle Dom is standing at the foot of a bed, examining a clipboard. He is also wearing a white lab coat, and greets her with a professional, tight-lipped smile when she appears in the doorway.

 

"Ah, you're here," he says, nodding in a pleased way. "Very good. That was quick," Cobb adds, jotting something down on the paper clipped to the board.

 

"Hey…" she says hesitantly, stepping into the room, but when she looks at the bed, Rose freezes in her tracks.

 

There, she sees a very young Arthur and Eames.

 

Arthur is sprawled across the bed and looks exhausted, but Eames is cradling a tiny baby—probably a newborn. 

 

"Hello, my love," her father coos, offering his index finger for the child to wrap its fingers around. He smiles brightly, rocking the baby gently from side-to-side. "No man will ever be good enough for you," he adds, a little gravely.

 

Arthur smirks weakly. "Eames…she may not date men."

 

The alpha considers this seriously for a moment, then nods. "Well, no woman will be good enough for you either," he says to the little bundle.

 

"Can they see us?" she whispers to Cobb when he wanders closer to her.

 

Cobb shrugs slowly, hugging the clipboard to his chest. "Sometimes. When they want to." He pauses a moment, squinting at the men who are, but are not, her fathers. "This is a memory from Eames' brain. We're in his dream right now."

 

"But he can't hear us?" Rose whispers, eyeing her father warily.

 

"He will…eventually. Not everyone knows they're dreaming right away. It takes training to realize that. Eames is a little out of practice," Cobb says, watching the alpha continue to whisper to the baby. "That's you, you know," he says, nodding at the baby.

 

Rose nods slowly because, right, that makes sense. They did say _she_ , and she's the only girl in the family, but it's still weird to watch her father cradle an infant version of herself. Eames looks so happy—his face positively glowing as he smiles at baby Rose, and she finds herself mirroring his expression until Cobb clears his throat and pulls her from the daze.

 

"Go engage with them. See if Eames recognizes you," Cobb instructs.

 

Nodding, Rose moves forward. She remembers that this isn't just another one of her sessions in which she messes around in a dream. Uncle Cobb is watching her to see how she performs, so she tries to carry herself with doctor-like poise when approaching Eames. "Hello," she says, smiling slightly.

 

The younger version of her father looks up, eyes still shining and lips curled in a content smile. "Hello, doctor. When can we take her home?" he asks, clearly still anchored to the idea of this all being real.

 

"Soon," she says, not wanting to upset Eames, but when she glances over her shoulder, Cobb is still watching her. She has to think of a way to remind Eames he's in a dream without causing him distress. She might not have a ton of dreamshare experience, but she has learned that jarring the dreamer in a profound way sometimes makes the dream collapse. "Have you thought about names?"

 

Eames shrugs slightly. "A bit," he says, grinning when baby Rose reaches for his finger again.

 

"Rose, maybe?" she asks.

 

Suddenly, her father stops rocking the baby, and looks up. She sees the exact moment it happens—the faintest flicker of recognition in the depths of Eames' eyes—and the baby blanket collapses in his hands, empty, the baby vanished into thin air.

 

He ages in a matter of seconds, and though the deterioration isn't dramatic, grey strands emerge on his head, lines carve the flesh around his eyes and mouth, and his body shift into the familiar shape of the father she knows these days—thicker, but stronger, too.

 

"Hello, darling," Eames says softly, the gleam in his eyes causing Rose to smile immediately.

 

"Eames?" the not-Arthur asks earnestly, gazing nervously between Eames and Rose.

 

"It's all right, my love," he says, taking Arthur's hand and kissing his knuckles. "I just need to speak with the doctor."

 

"Okay," Arthur says hesitantly, and to their backs, because Eames is already escorting her away from the bed, gently guiding her by the elbow as he whispers:

 

"Don't look back. Just keep moving."

 

When the three of them exit the room, he plucks a mop from a nearby bucket and inserts it into the door handle to keep the not-Arthur locked inside. Eames secures the door just in time because suddenly it begins rattling on its hinges as the not-Arthur screams and yanks at it. 

 

"I see you've got your projection of Arthur under control," Cobb remarks casually as they walk down the hallway.

 

Eames glares at him. "At least he's not a bloody shade, all right? He's not violent. He's just…attached to me."

 

Cobb smirks, jotting something else on his clipboard, and Rose watches him for a moment before she speaks: "So we have…projections of people we know in our dreams?"

 

Her uncle glances up and nods. "Yes. You never saw any?"

 

When Rose shakes her head, he hums thoughtfully. "Maybe you weren't under long enough, but yes, we all have projections. Some of the projections are…aggressive. They're called shades."

 

"Do you guys have them?" she asks.

 

Cobb and Eames exchange a weary look, and her uncle takes a deep breath before answering: "I used to. My deceased wife, Mal."

 

Rose nods slowly. She's heard her fathers mention Mal before, but she never met the woman, so she's more like a character in a fairytale Rose grew up hearing about. "You do too?" she asks Eames.

 

Her father presses his lips into a thin line and nods. "A couple. My father, and a bloke I knew…in the military."

 

She doesn't need to pry further. Rose has always known Eames didn't have a good relationship with his father, and judging by his pale visage, the friend in the military is probably dead—and most likely died in front of Eames.

 

"Hello," says a voice from behind Rose, and when she wheels around, she sees her other father standing there. Upon closer inspection, it's definitely Arthur—the graying sideburns, the crows feet when he smiles faintly in amusement at his daughter's shocked expression. "Did I miss anything fun?"

 

"Rose just met your projection," Cobb says, still scribbling away on his board.

 

"Ah…" Arthur says, "He wasn't too nasty to you, was he?"

 

Rose blinks. "He screamed a lot…and clawed at the door."

 

Arthur quirks a brow and looks at Eames, who responds by shrugging and looking mildly sheepish. "What can I say? He's very jealous, darling. Doesn't like me talking to anyone but him."

 

From the corner of her eye, Rose sees her brother appear at the end of the hallway. "Hey!" Jack declares indelicately and Cobb winces as he comes hurrying down the corridor, some of the other projections casting nasty looks at him.

 

"Keep your voice down," he says when Jack is close enough to hear him. "Trust me, you don't want to upset Eames' projections." Cobb eyes the young alpha. "What took you so long to find us?"

 

Jack's face flushes. "There was this nurse…"

 

Eames' gaze is very far away when he responds: "Oh yeah, I know which nurse he's talking about."

 

Arthur rolls his eyes.

 

"All right," Cobb declares, shaking his head in disapproval. "I think we'll run a basic drill. You two," he says, gesturing to Arthur and Eames, "Will lead us on a little cat and mouse exercise. Eames will summon memories and Rose will have to find you inside them. Arthur, you'll tag along as security in case things get hairy."

 

"What am I doing?" Jack asks.

 

"What do you mean _hairy_?" Rose asks, squinting at her uncle.

 

"You'll try to find them too, then forge characters, and engage with Eames. If you're convincing, the dream won't collapse," Cobb says to Jack, ignoring Rose.

 

One of the projections, an elderly patient with a hunched back, roughly bumps into Jack's shoulder as she shuffles down the hallway, and then glares at him. "Watch it," she hisses.

 

"We should go," Cobb says, and Eames nods in agreement.

 

"Wait, what do you mean _hairy_?" Rose asks again, heart thumping uncomfortably in her chest.

 

Cobb glances at Arthur, who sighs and turns to face Rose. "The projections…get a little violent if the dreamer knows they're dreaming."

 

"But…you know you're dreaming," she says to Eames, and one of the nurses standing nearby looks up sharply, staring at them.

 

Eames presses his finger to his lips and nods towards the stairwell. Arthur nods and leads the way, and soon they're charging down the stairs, Rose calling out from the back of the group. "Wait! What will they do to us?"

 

Neither Arthur or Eames answer her question, but Cobb takes pity on his niece, and when they're outside, turns to face her. "They'll tear your apart with their bare hands, or stab you, or shoot you. Really whatever is convenient for them at the time."

 

"But that won't happen," Arthur interjects quickly, briefly glaring at Cobb. "I can shoot you before that happens." Arthur's version of fatherly love.

 

"Oh, fucking fantastic," Jack declares, laughing joylessly as he presses his back against the concrete facade of the hospital. "So if we're not torn limb from limb, there are a million other ways to die down here."

 

"You've been shot in a dream?" Rose asks Arthur.

 

Eames laughs, but tries to cover it with a cough. 

 

"Many times," Arthur answers bleakly, though he offers Rose a grim little smile.

 

She pauses for a moment, letting that information sink in. "And in real life?"

 

Her fathers glance at one another. "A few times," Arthur answers simply.

 

Rose thinks back to all the times she's seen Arthur and Eames shirtless, and she tries to remember seeing old puncture wounds. Like any human being, her fathers have old burns and scars, but she never thought to ask them how they earned those badges. Now that she stops to ponder their childhood, she realizes there were hundreds of opportunities to pry into her fathers' pasts, but she—none of the kids—ever did.

 

She wonders if they were being respectful or selfish.

 

***

 

Cobb sends Eames away with the instruction he's to enter a random memory, and it's up to Rose and Jack to find him. 

 

As they walk the streets in Eames' mind, Arthur and Cobb trail behind them a few paces—Cobb ever-scribbling notes, and Arthur languidly paced beside him.

 

He had explained before their departure, with a brief flash of a gun secured in a shoulder holster beneath his jacket, that he would be escorting them as their "security."

 

Rose is a little unnerved to learn about the gun's presence, even though this is a dream, and even though she knows she can't really die. As they wanders the streets, Rose wonders if Arthur is any good with the gun. She supposes he must be if he's lived this long as a criminal.

 

"How did you meet dad?" she asks, glancing back at Arthur. "I mean, I assume the _we met in the military_ story is a lie, right?"

 

From behind, Arthur sighs quietly, and Rose feels a subtle pang of guilt. Yes, Arthur and Eames lied to them (for years,) but considering how badly Rose messed up by stealing Ariadne's PASIV, they've reacted quite generously. They've even gone so far as to show them the ropes of dreamshare.

 

"We met on a job. Your Uncle Dom recruited him," Arthur says.

 

"And it was love at first sight?" Jack asks jovially, kicking a stray can down the street.

 

Cobb takes a rare break from writing to laugh. "Hardly."

 

When Rose looks at him again, Arthur is smiling. "Not at first sight, but he grew on me."

 

After an hour in the dreamscape, Rose realizes she and Jack have been walking purposefully towards the outer perimeter of the city—aimed at a mountain that rises in the east like a monument. 

 

"Where are you going?" Cobb asks.

 

Rose and Jack glance at each other and the alpha shrugs. "Dunno, but this way feels right."

 

She nods in agreement. Though the force drawing them east is nameless, Jack is right that it definitely feels like the correct decision. And she's not sure why. 

 

When she looks back at her father again, she sees Arthur look at Cobb meaningfully and her uncle seems pleased when he jots something down. Whatever they're doing, it must be right because Cobb looks extremely happy with himself.

 

They follow the invisible path to a cabin that sticks out like a sore thumb among the modern architecture of the city. The place is rustic, and most oddly, covered in snow even though the sun is still high in the sky. 

 

"Ah, Emelyanovsky," Cobb says wistfully. "Never thought Eames would want to revisit this place," he chuckles, and when Rose and Jack look at him curiously, he clarifies: "It's in Siberia. Awful region, buried in snow, and no women," Cobb says sadly.

 

"Well, that wasn't an issue for us," Arthur teases, gesturing for Rose to lead the way into the cabin.

 

Cobb laughs, shaking his head. "No, I guess it wasn't." He squints up at the side of the cabin. "But Eames hates cold weather. Why would he build this place?"

 

Rose presses her shoulder to the door and pushes it open, clumps of snow falling onto her shoulders until she's finally inside.

 

The interior of the cabin is modest, bordering on dilapidated, though a fire burns in the hearth. There is no furniture, but she quickly spots her father kneeling in front of another projection of Arthur, who is seated on the floor, back propped against the wall. Arthur is very young in this memory—maybe in his twenties—and he's injured, blood running down his side where Eames is gently patting at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

 

The omega is pale, shirtless, and shivering—perhaps because of the frigid temperature inside the cabin, but also from blood loss.

 

Eames doesn't seem to hear them yet because he's so preoccupied with projection Arthur. "I've got you," he whispers comfortingly, while the projection of Arthur, who is clearly in agony, rests the back of his head against the wall and swallows thickly.

 

"Eames…You have to keep going. They're going to find us," he says.

 

"Nonsense. We're safe here," Eames responds, fumbling on the floor for something…When Rose peers closer, she sees it's a needle and thread. "Cobb is finding a car with snow chains, and we'll be on the road in no time. You'll see," he says, taking his hands off Arthur, but only so he can attempt to thread the needle—no easy task with blood coating his hands.

 

"We're not…We're not," Arthur babbles softly, head dropping forward.

 

"Darling," Eames says sharply, his tone harsh enough to wake Arthur from his stupor. "Stay with me," he instructs, the needle threaded. "This is going to hurt. I apologize," he says, and Rose looks away when Arthur cries out the moment the needle pierces his skin.

 

Once Eames has stitched Arthur back together, he snips the thread with a small pair of scissors. The _snip_ is drowned out, however, by gunfire just outside the rear window of the cabin. Both Eames and Arthur jump at the sound.

 

"Shit, you have to go," Arthur gasps, fully conscious again—probably due to a surge of adrenaline. "Here," he says, pushing a gun into the alpha's hands.

 

"No, I'm not leaving you," Eames answers, pushing the gun away.

 

"Eames, _please_ ," Arthur says, his eyes wide, a little wild, and voice breaking.

 

Eames makes a soft comforting sound and grabs the back of Arthur's head, pressing their foreheads together. "Stop," he says quietly. "Stop it. I'm not leaving you."

 

"They'll kill us," Arthur whispers, sounding young and afraid.

 

The alpha exhales loudly. "Maybe," he concedes. "But if they do, I have to tell you something, darling…"

 

Rose looks at her shoes. She knows they shouldn't be here, and it's the most intimate version of a privacy violation now that they are. Eames has no control over where his memories lead him, but clearly this moment meant the world to him, but she also knows this memory is not for them. This belongs to her father.

 

When she looks up again, it's not at Eames and the projection of Arthur, but to the real Arthur, who is watching the scene quietly. His jaw tenses a bit, but there is a softness in his gaze that Rose hasn't often seen. 

 

Whatever this moment means to Eames, it means the same thing to Arthur.

 

"Don't…" projection Arthur whispers, perhaps anticipating what might come next.

 

But before Eames can make any declarations, Cobb walks across the room. "Sorry it took so long. I got the car," he says. "Arthur, can you walk?"

 

Arthur pulls away from Eames like he's been electrocuted the second he hears Cobb's voice. "Yes, I can," he answers immediately, reaching for Eames and Cobb's hands when they help him to his feet.

 

Except, Rose realizes, it's not really Cobb because her uncle is still standing beside her, gripping his clipboard, though his notes now hang limply at his side. Currently, he's openly gaping at the not-Cobb, and when the three of them pass Rose and her uncle, not-Cobb winks at them.

 

Which is when she knows the younger Cobb isn't a projection.

 

He's Jack.

 

***

 

"Very impressive," Cobb says afterwards, once Eames (along with the projection of Arthur) have vanished and they're standing in the middle of the street once again. He writes at length in his notes, murmuring _very impressive_ a few more times.

 

"Thanks," Jack says, looking very smug.

 

"I've never seen anyone pick up forging like this," he says to Arthur. "Have you?"

 

Arthur sighs, adjusting the gun on his side. "No," he answers, though he sounds less than thrilled.

 

Rose rolls her eyes, but she has to begrudgingly (though silently) admit that it was pretty impressive. Not even Eames realized Jack had forged Cobb.

 

"Okay, show me where Eames is now," Cobb says, clicking his pen.

 

She sighs loudly, rubbing the back of her neck. They've been walking for _hours_ , and while she appreciates the dream tutorial, a part of her is beginning to wonder how much longer they'll have to chase down her father. "Can we take a shortcut?" she asks.

 

Cobb frowns thoughtfully. "I suppose. What do you mean?"

 

"Well, like…" Rose holds up her hands and pulls them apart quickly, and when she does, the rows of buildings in front of them separate like Moses parting the Red Sea. The sounds of foundations grinding and metal bending is deafening, but when it's over, there is a clear path between them and an inconspicuous office building. 

 

"Holy shit," Jack remarks, eyebrows nearly flying off his forehead.

 

Judging by Arthur's expression, he concurs, but he's silent, though he regards the shifted structures with wide eyes.

 

"Who taught you to do that?" Cobb asks, gaping up at the relocated buildings as they pass them.

 

"I taught me," Rose answers, only a little arrogantly. 

 

"Fascinating…fascinating," her uncle mumbles, writing furiously. "How do you know where Eames is?"

 

Rose presses her lips together, trying to figure out how to articulate it, but Jack beats her to it: "It's like…warm. You know when you put your hand by a radiator and you can feel the warmth even if you don't touch the metal?"

 

Rose nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like warmth."

 

Arthur hums affirmatively. "I know what you mean. I can do that in real life with Eames."

 

Cobb looks up sharply. "You can?"

 

"Sure," Arthur answers breezily. "Couldn't you do that with Mal?"

 

"No," Cobb answers, but instead of slighted, he sounds excited, and returns to his writing. 

 

The building turns out to be a group of office spaces with a dentist and hairstylist occupying the ground level. Floor two is an accountant and lawyer, and the top floor is something called DreamCo Inc., according to the bland plaque affixed to the back of the door.

 

"Our first business," Cobb notes, smiling fondly at the name plate.

 

"Business?" Rose asks. "I thought you were criminals."

 

"Well, not at first," Arthur says, opening the door to reveal a large room. On either side of the room are desks, and the far wall is equipped with a chalkboard. In the center of the room is a long table with a metal briefcase on it, surrounded by what look like lawn chairs. "At first, we were a legal research group."

 

There's a pretty young woman seated on the edge of the desk beside Cobb, who is reclined in a chair placed in front of the chalkboard. Rose immediately knows this is Mal, based on Arthur's descriptions, and on old photos she's seen. She's beautiful in an effortless way that only French women have really figured out how to pull off, hair hanging in glossy, carefree ringlets around her face, and sporting a cream-coloured sweater and black slacks. 

 

Projection Cobb is clearly smitten, smiling up at her as she talks about something, occasionally pointing to the chalkboard.

 

"You okay?" Arthur asks, looking at Cobb.

 

Her uncle is watching the projections interact, but he forces a small smile onto his lips. "Yes," he answers, gaze falling to his notes again.

 

"We can call this off," her father adds.

 

"I'm fine, Arthur," Cobb answers, and the omega doesn't question him again.

 

They stand in silence, watching the young couple flirt with limitless joy and hope in their hearts—unknowing, in this moment, of what is to come. Finally, Eames enters through a side door. He's very young, hair a bit wild from the wind outside, and a crooked grin hangs on his lips. "I know, I'm late. I'm sorry, Mal, my love," he says, and then segues into rapid French when the young woman stands to greet him in proper European fashion—a kiss to each cheek.

 

Cobb stands as well, though he eyes the other alpha with trepidation. It seems funny now that her uncle might have ever viewed her father warily—as though he was a threat. "You're _twenty minutes_ late, Eames." 

 

"I did say I was sorry, didn't I?" Eames replies, expression sunny, but tone taking on a hard edge.

 

"Please don't quarrel," Mal sighs, offering a charming smile to the men. "Eames is here now. That's all that matters, yes?"

 

Rose smirks when her father offers projection Cobb a rather smug, victorious look. Some things never change. She turns around to lock eyes with Arthur, to share the moment of recognition with him, but when she looks for her father, he's no where to be found. He'd been standing by the door a moment ago, but now she only sees Cobb and Jack.

 

"Where's dad?" Rose whispers to her uncle.

 

"Hm?" Cobb hums, tearing his gaze away from the young projections. He stares blankly at Rose for a moment before recalling where he is, and then his gaze turns a bit frantic as he gazes past her shoulder to Jack, and then behind him, searching for Arthur.

 

But her father is no where to be found. 

 

"Shit," Cobb says, loud enough for Eames to hear him.

 

Eames looks from the projections to Cobb, his brow creased in confusion. "Who are—" he asks, but Rose can't hear the rest of the question because something—someone—collides into the locked office door, which rattles on its hinges. It's the other projections from the downstairs offices. Eames must know he's dreaming, or at the very least sense something is wrong, and the projections are coming to tear all of them apart.

 

Instinctively, she moves closer to her brother and reaches for his hand. Jack's hand is cool, dry, and comforting when his fingers wrap around hers and squeeze. He doesn't look nervous, but then again, Jack rarely does. It doesn't mean he's not secretly freaking out on the inside, though.

 

Suddenly, one of the windows explodes when a projection—a window cleaner—crashes through the glass. Without hesitating, Cobb draws a gun from his hip and shoots Eames between the eyes before the projection can get to him. 

 

Rose knows it's a dream, but she still screams in horror when the young version of her father collapses to the floor.

 

The building trembles around them, and when she looks out one of the unbroken windows, she sees the buildings around them collapsing like a house of cards. Above them, the ceiling groans in warning, and beside them, Cobb wields around and points the barrel of the gun at Jack.

 

"Don't!" Rose screams, even though she knows this is necessary to pull them out of the dream. She comprehends none of this is real, and yet, when Cobb shoots her brother in the head, she screams in terror again when Jack's fingers slip from her grasp and he falls heavy to the tiles, and she keeps screaming until her uncle finally—mercifully—buries a bullet into her brain.

 

***

As predicted, she awakes on the floor of Max and Ravi's apartment a split second later. But what she isn't prepared for is the utter chaos she awakes to. The first thing she's aware of is the frantic voice of her father, Eames, barking at Cobb: "Where is he? What happened?!"

 

And her uncle's frantic answer: "I don't know. Eames, I _don't know_."

 

A beat later, Ari's voice: "They came in—Eames, I tries to stop them. I wasn't armed."

 

"That's enough," Eames barks at his aunt. "I've heard enough of your excuses."

 

Rose still isn't used to the side effects of the Somnacin, and it takes her a while to find the strength to grip the coffee table and pull herself into a seated position. She blinks rapidly to focus her eyes, which is when she sees that the apartment is trashed. The kitchen table is overturned and riddled with holes that Rose eventually comprehends are bullet marks. As her senses gradually sharpen, she hears the muffled cries of her younger brother.

 

_Max._

 

"Shit. Max," she slurs, and Eames' attention rips away from Cobb to his daughter. He blinks and seems to take in her words, and then darts to the bedroom. The door is open, and Rose sees Ravi, arms thrown around Max, rocking the omega gently as he sobs into his chest. 

 

Rose forces herself to stand, and she stumbles past Jack, who is also trying to summon the strength to climb off the couch.

 

"Ducky," Eames says gently, stroking the omega's hair comfortingly. "What happened?"

 

Max is hysterical, so Ravi tightens his arms around his mate and answers for him: "Some men broke in. We heard a commotion in the main room, so I went out there, and they just..started shooting," he says, trying to keep his voice steady, but Rose can tell he's rattled. When Max makes a soft sound of distress against his chest, Ravi shushes him and kisses the top of his head. His wide, dark eyes are grave when he looks back to Eames: "They took Arthur."

 

The color drains from Eames' face, and he doesn't answer, but instead turns and walks slowly from the bedroom. Rose watches him silently, unsure of what she should do first. She wants to comfort Max, but also help her father, who appears to be in shock when he wanders into the kitchen. 

 

Cobb crouches on the floor and picks up a small white card from the floor. When he straightens, he stares at it a long time before slowly handing it to Eames.

 

"Shit," her fathers whispers quietly, and Cobb nods slowly in response, face ashen and jaw locked tightly.

 

Ariadne stands by the kitchen counter, her knuckles white as he grips the edge. "Eames, I couldn't stop them. I barely had enough time to dive behind the table, and they still almost killed me. I'm sorry," she says breathlessly, eyes huge and desperate.

 

"It's not your fault," Cobb says, walking over to his aunt and gripping her arms tightly. "It's not your fault," he says again softly.

 

Ariadne swallows thickly and nods, but she still looks like she's fighting back tears. 

 

"What is it?" Rose says. "Who took dad?"

 

Eames doesn't answer, but instead hands her the card. She watches her father slowly walk over to a chair and sit down heavily. Rose has never known her father to hesitate in the face of danger, so his lackadaisical response now is alarming. "Dad, we have to go get him," Rose cries, looking first in disbelief at her father, and then uncle and aunt, who seem to be experiencing a similar degree of shock.

 

"It's not that simple," Eames finally answers quietly.

 

When she looks to her brother for support, Jack is seated on the edge of the couch, staring back at her, his eyes wide and frightened. "What's the card say?" he asks weakly.

 

Rose shakes her head and looks down at the small type again. It doesn't make sense and she doesn't understand its meaning, but there on the white face of the card is a single line of black text:

 

"Now we're even. —P.B."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part of Frank is played by Sam Rockwell.

When Arthur awakes, he immediately knows something is wrong. He's no longer sprawled on the floor of Max and Ravi's apartment. Instead, cold concrete presses into his back, and the room is dark when he opens his eyes. Distantly, he hears a faucet dripping water, and when Arthur lifts his chin, he spots a lone window high on the wall, but there are bars across it.

 

Squinting, he can just make out the shape of grass at the base of the window, so he knows he must be in a basement somewhere. Arthur shifts, and winces when the back of his head throbs. He touches the base of his skull, and when he withdraws his fingers, they're smeared with blood.

 

Whoever kidnapped was none too gentle in the process, it seems.

 

"Yeah, sorry about that," a voice emanates from the corner of the room. 

 

Arthur jolts to sit upright and scrambles backwards, which is a bad idea because his head pounds in response. He squints into the shadows, but his eyes take a long time to focus, and when they do, he finally sees a man seated in the corner. He's around Arthur's age—an alpha, judging by the smell of him—with slightly wild hair and stubble lining his jaw. There's a lit cigarette balanced between his fingers, and his legs are crossed causally. "When we dragged you into the car, your head hit the door pretty hard," he explains before taking a drag.

 

"Who's we?" Arthur rasps, at once regretting his decision to speak when the room swims. He clenches his eyes closed and focuses on drawing deep breaths. He might have a concussion, but in that case, it's important to remain conscious.

 

"Well, me, for starters. I'm Frank. Nice to meet you," the alpha says dryly, and when Arthur opens his eyes, he sees the man ash carelessly on the floor.

 

"Hi, Frank," Arthur says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

Frank smirks and nods slightly. "And then there's my employer. I believe you know him: Peter Browning."

 

Arthur's heart drops into his stomach. He stares at Frank for a moment, then sighs and slowly slumps down against the wall.

 

"Yeah, I thought so," Frank sighs, smirking mirthlessly. "So here we are."

 

The floor is filthy, and Arthur rubs at his slacks to brush off some of the soot, but it only ends up embedding in the fibers. Not that it matters at this point. He's in a basement cell in some remote location, and Peter Browning is his captor. This is bad. _Really_ bad. 

 

"Why me?" he asks softly, looking at the alpha again. Arthur wasn't the only person in the Inception team, but he is the only one Browning targeted.

 

"Must be your pretty eyes," Frank answers sarcastically, but when Arthur stares blankly at him, he sighs. "I don't know, okay? I just owe the man, and this is how he called in the favor. Imagine my surprise," he drawls, taking another pull from his cigarette before crushing it under the toe of his shoe.

 

A heavy steel door on the opposite wall grinds open, and suddenly Peter Browning is standing in the doorway. Frank jumps to his feet, and Arthur freezes, fingers gripping the cloth of his trousers. It's definitely him, although his hair is completely white, and his face is more gaunt. Although he's an elderly man now, Browning is still an alpha, and as such carries with him an intimidating regality.  

 

Arthur wonders if Browning targeted him because he's the only omega on the Inception team. Perhaps the man thought he could easily intimidate him. The thought triggers a surge of anger, and Arthur spits: "What the hell do you want?"

 

Apparently, that was not the greeting Browning expected because he pauses in his tracks and smirks at Arthur. "Got a little fire in you, hm? I see why he likes you," the alpha says gruffly. 

 

Arthur eyes Browning, wondering if he could launch himself across the room and take out the man by his legs. But then there's the problem of Frank. Two against one doesn't leave him with very good odds. When the alpha mentions a _he_ , Arthur forgets to brainstorm an escape because he assumes Browning is talking about Eames. Why the hell would Peter Browning be using him as leverage in order to hurt Eames? If anything, he'd expect Browning to be going after Cobb.

 

There was the incident years ago when Robert Fischer hired goons to kidnap Jack and use him as leverage to force the Inception team out of retirement. But Inception hadn't worked on Saito, and last Arthur heard, the issue of Robert Fischer was a settled matter.

 

Yet, here they are.

 

"Is this about Fischer?" he asks.

 

Browning's gaze blazes with fury when he stares down at Arthur. "You all assume I'm some pathetic lap dog, don't you?" he snarls.

 

Arthur takes a deep breath, not to answer the alpha, but to brace himself. Browning looks furious—like he's seconds away from striking or kicking Arthur—and he's preparing himself for the onslaught. But it never comes. Instead, the man smirks and shoves his hands in his pants pockets. 

 

"Your little team destroyed my legacy, you know that, don't you?"

 

Arthur doesn't answer, but he's also careful not to looking away from Browning. In his years working with alphas, he's learned a few things, including the importance of eye contact. Omegas normally drop their gazes submissively when in the presence of alphas, but Arthur knows how much it unnerves them when a lowly omega stares boldly into their eyes.

 

"Fischer moved on," Arthur says. "Why can't you?"

 

"Of course he did!" Browning roars, and the sound is deafening in the closed space of the room. Frank jumps in surprise, and Arthur tenses, but only a little. He's also used to dealing with alphas' temper tantrums. "He's a spoiled trust fund _brat_ , who's never had to work a day in his life! _I'm_ the one who licked that old fool's boots all those years. And what do I have to show for it?"

 

Arthur shrugs. "I don't know. Millions of dollars?"

 

He's genuinely surprised by how quickly the elderly alpha moves, storming over to him, gripping his hair, and yanking back his head painfully. Arthur cries out, hands flying up to grip Browning's wrist in vain. The man is shockingly strong, even by alpha standards. "I was meant to inherit the company—not Robert. Robert is a pampered child, who doesn't know his ass from his elbow," he hisses.

 

Arthur remains quiet, but Peter shakes him violently anyway, and he cries out in agony again. It feels like the man is going to rip his hair from his skull.

 

"Hey!" Frank calls from behind the alpha. "You said we were just going to talk to him."

 

Browning ignores the other alpha and sneers down at Arthur. "The damage is done, but that doesn't mean Saito just gets to _walk away_ from what he did." The alpha releases him and shoves Arthur away, and he only just manages to stop his face from slamming into the floor. "Give it to me," he barks at Frank, who is watching Arthur with wide, horrified eyes, but he quickly complies and fetches a folder from the floor.

 

As soon as he hands the file to Browning, the alpha flips it open and throws down a stack of glossy photos in front of Arthur. They're surveillance photos of Arthur, but stretching back _years—_ from when he was pregnant with Jack, to playing with the kids when they were little at the park, right up until very recently where he and Eames look a little more worn and gray.

 

"You know where I got these?" Browning asks.

 

Arthur feels sick when he tears his gaze away from the photos. "You've been spying on me?"

 

The alpha barks with laughter. "Not me. Saito. We got these from his office."

 

After receiving that information, he's stunned into silence. Arthur stares blankly at the photos again, trying to make sense of everything. 

 

Browning's laughter is cruel and harsh. "Surprised? I was too, frankly. We couldn't find a single photo of any of Saito's mates, but there were stacks of photos of you. Now, what do you suppose that means?"

 

He remains quiet, jaw locked, gaze fixated on the pictures. Truthfully, Arthur doesn't really understand what it means. There was a time when Saito was romantically interested in him, and Arthur returned those feelings, but they never consummated the relationship even though they was a brief window when they might have even been a little bit in love. But Arthur doesn't feel that way about Saito anymore, and it seems impossible that the alpha could have felt that way about him all these years.

 

But that feeble belief seems contradicted by the pile of evidence in front of him. Saito has been watching him for decades—perhaps to make sure he's all right, but maybe because, while Arthur was busy moving on, Saito never did. He built an energy empire, and took many mates, and bore many children, but maybe a piece of him never quite let go of what happened between them during Inception.

 

"I'll tell you what it means," Browning says, interrupting Arthur's daze. "It means Mr. Saito doesn't have photos of his mates, or his children in his office, but he built a shrine to you. It means Mr. Saito has been obsessing over you for years, and has had to watch you with that oily Englishman, and while I might not be able to destroy his business, or steal from him the way he stole from me, I think he'll be willing to negotiate when he knows I have you."

 

"Negotiate for what?" Arthur asks softly. He wants to push the photos away, or turn them upside-down so he doesn't have to look at them anymore. 

 

Browning hums thoughtfully. "A partnership, or money. We'll see what Mr. Saito offers. But in the meantime…" he says, pulling his smartphone out of his pocket. "Say cheese," he says before snapping a photo of Arthur. "I'll just send this to him."

 

The alpha leaves soon after that, the large door grinding shut in his wake, and the clink of the lock echoing bleakly in the cell. Frank sighs and begins gathering the photos, occasionally glancing at Arthur as he works. "I'm sorry…about that," he murmurs. "I had no idea about—I thought this was…a different kind of job."

 

Arthur shakes his head and the back of his head throbs. He winces, touches the back of his crown, and withdraws his hand, there's fresh blood on his fingers.

 

Frank frowns when he sees the blood. "This'll be over soon, okay? Just tell him what he wants to hear, and Mr. Say-toe, or whatever, will spring you in no time."

 

Sighing loudly, Arthur wipes his hand on his pants leg. "He's not letting me go. He'll extort the money from Saito, and kill me just for spite. And if you think differently, you don't know him very well," he says angrily. When Frank eyes him disbelievingly, Arthur rolls his eyes. "Why would an old man like him want money now? This is about getting even with Saito."

 

The alpha stares down at the file and sighs. "Shit, I swear I didn't know about any of this. He didn't even tell me you're an omega. I mean, what kind of alpha roughs up an omega like that?"

 

Arthur briefly forgets he's a prisoner, his cheeks and ears flushed in annoyance, when he counters: "I might be an omega, but I could kick your ass."

 

Frank laughs loudly—a surprised, pleased sound. "Jesus, I don't doubt it." The alpha hesitates a moment standing in front of Arthur, and he looks like he wants to do something—maybe help Arthur, or tend to his wounds, but he also knows he's not supposed to. "You got anyone looking for you? I mean, apart from Mr. Say-toe?"

 

Arthur sighs. "Look, Frank—It's Frank, right?" When the alpha nods, he continues. "I believe you're a decent guy, who got swept up in this, but when my people find me, you don't want to be here." Arthur reclines against the wall and looks up towards the window—the sole source of light. "They'll burn this place to the ground."

 

***

 

Eames breaks one of his cardinal rules and uses a traceable number, his cell phone, to call in every favor he's earned over the years in dreamshare. He's looking for someone—anyone—who has information about where Peter Browning might have taken Arthur. 

 

Cobb does the same from his phone, but they turn up empty-handed. Sadly, the only person who possesses the skills to locate Browning is Arthur, and for obvious reasons, they can't utilize his vast knowledge at the moment. 

 

He's forced to tell Jack and Rose everything—including about Inception, and their sketchy history with Robert Fischer and Browning. Though they have this conversation in the living room, the bedroom door remains open, and he knows Max can hear every word, which makes the confession that much more painful. 

 

"Fischer was the man who arranged your kidnapping," Eames adds, looking at Jack.

 

His son nods slowly, processing this information. "But I thought he was going to leave us alone now…" he says, glancing from Eames to Cobb.

 

Eames sighs, shaking his head. "Browning apparently never got the memo."

 

He and Cobb toil fruitlessly for hours, trying to piece together what Browning's goals might be, and where he's taken Arthur. Eames tries not to think the worst—that Browning is deranged and has already killed Arthur. He comforts himself by repeating the mantra that Browning is a businessman, and as such he is goal-oriented, and will make demands before doing anything rash.

 

Though he's prepared for more angry comments, Rose and Max seem to know Eames is barely clinging to his last nerve because they don't freak out when they learn about Browning. Max remains mostly in the bedroom, claiming he feels tired, and Ravi stays with him, but Rose occasionally asks Eames if he needs anything. He always says no and continues calling his contacts, but now and again he glances to the side and sees a glass of water, or a sandwich on a plate, resting on the table beside him.

 

This goes on for days, with he and Cobb barely sleeping. They don't change from their clothes, and they don't shower, and if it wasn't for Rose insisting on it, Eames wouldn't eat or drink either. Ariadne tends to Cobb: feeding him, making his coffee, and occasionally just squeezing his shoulder in a comforting fashion while he makes phone call after phone call.

 

No one has heard anything.

 

Eames is just beginning to lose hope when, on the third day, there's a knock at the door. Everyone, including Max and Ravi, are gathered in the living room at the time, and there's an absurd moment when they remain silent and gaze at one another, as if each person expects someone else to go answer it.

 

Finally, Ravi moves to the steps with Eames and Cobb close behind, and when they reach the bottom of the steps, Jun, Saito's eldest son, is standing outside on the porch.

 

Ravi hesitates to open the door, not recognizing the man, but Eames pushes past him and walks outside. "Jun…" he greets in surprise.

 

Jun is nearly the spitting image of his father, though his features are a little softer. He smiles faintly and nods respectfully towards Eames and Cobb. "Mr. Eames. Mr. Cobb."

 

"What're you doing here?" Cobb asks, cutting right to the chase.

 

"You must be Ravi," Jun continues, ignoring Cobb's line of questioning. He extends his hand. "Jun Saito."

 

Ravi seems wary, but he accepts the other alpha's hand and shakes it. "Pleasure," he murmurs, voice tinted with confusion.

 

"Jun is Saito's son," Eames explains, adding: "And he courted Max…briefly."

 

He figures the best policy at this point is total honesty, and reminds himself that is the right path, even when Ravi looks slightly peeved at the last half of his statement. "Ah," the alpha answers vaguely—a diplomatic pivot.

 

"My father sent me with his apologies for inconveniencing your family, and he wants me to assure you Arthur will be returned to you soon," Jun says, finally answering Cobb's original question.

 

Eames nods slowly. "Right, well, with all due respect, I'd prefer to be there when he finds Arthur."

 

"He thought you would say that. I'm sure we can arrange something," Jun says, glancing past them towards the door. "May I come in?"

 

Eames and Cobb automatically look at Ravi for his permission, since he's the alpha of the residence. Clearly, he's not thrilled at the idea of inviting Max's old suitor upstairs—even if they only saw each other once, and the courtship didn't survive that initial meeting. But Ravi is also a team player when it counts, and he knows Jun is an essential piece in them finding Arthur. "Of course," he says.

 

Flashing a grateful smile at his son-in-law, Eames opens the door and waves Jun inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Browning wises up and finally cuffs Arthur's wrists behind his back, then loops the heavy chain through a steel pipe jutting from the wall, so he's secured in place. Frank only removes the restraints when he has to use the bathroom, which is just a toilet in the corner of the room, or it's time for Arthur to eat. Frank usually hands him a sad-looking sandwich on a paper plate, and then looms over Arthur while he eats it.

 

Normally, they chat a little during meal times, and it's a nice reprieve from the dark silence that comprises Arthur's days.

 

"So…" Frank says during one of his visits. "I imagine a nice omega like you has a mate."

 

Arthur smirks around a bite of the sandwich. Frank already knows he has a mate, if he saw the photos of him and Eames together, and an extremely pregnant Arthur walking around. But he gets it. The days are long and boring, and the alpha wants to fill them with some idle chit-chat.

 

The bread is dry and the meat is tough, and it takes him a long time to chew before he can answer. "Mhm, and three kids."

 

The alpha pauses before he answers: "Yeah, I, uh…smelled that."

 

Arthur nods slowly and sets down the plate. He's not very hungry. If anything, he'd like to shower—maybe shave, but he knows Browning will never give the privacy, or the razor, to make that happen. Frank lingers nearby awkwardly, shifting from foot-to-foot. He's probably wondering if Arthur plans on eating more, or if he should take the plate and leave.

 

He finds that he doesn't want Frank to go, though, and Arthur knows it's a byproduct of being held captive—some version of Stockholm Syndrome—but that knowledge doesn't make the desire any less real.

 

"Why do you owe Browning?" Arthur asks, tilting his head back so he can lean it against the wall. The bleeding finally stopped yesterday, and though his head still hurts like hell, at least the room has stopped spinning. When Frank furrows his brow in response, he clarifies: "You said you owe him. Why?"

 

Frank's suit is wrinkled, ill-fitting, and cheap, and it reminds Arthur a little of Eames. But then again, his mate is very much on his mind, and everything sort of reminds him of Eames and the kids. He can hear Eames' voice in his head: _Remember your SERE training, love._ They were taught survival, evasion, resistance, and escape in the military, and Arthur is currently surviving, but he thinks maybe having Frank on his side will be a key part of the next three steps.

 

Sighing, the alpha rubs the back of his neck and smirks humourlessly. "Um…gambling debts. Mr. Browning helped me out."

 

Arthur again thinks of Eames and his proud peacock walk when they were in Vegas, which simultaneously seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago. "My husband gambles," he says.

 

Frank's eyes light up a bit. "Oh yeah? He any good?"

 

"Better than you, I imagine," Arthur says, grinning.

 

The alpha's bright laughter fills the room again. "Well, that's a low bar."

 

They're quiet again, and Arthur picks up his plate to finish his sandwich. It's truly awful, and he misses Eames' wonderful cooking with every fiber of his being. Arthur spends much of his days fantasizing about all the things he's going to make his mate cook him when they're reunited, and that's always how he phrases it in his head: _when,_ not _if_. He's going to survive, and part of that survival entails remaining optimistic, well-nourished, and sharp.

 

Frank fills a paper cup full of water in the sink and brings it to Arthur, who chases the dry bread down his throat with a few gulps. "Thanks," he says softly, wiping his mouth and crushing the cup in his hand.

 

"Were you and Mr. Say-toe a thing?" Frank asks.

 

Arthur laughs weakly because this whole situation is ridiculous the more he thinks about it. It seems like they're never going to outrun the consequences of Inception—the ripple effect of a decision they made more than two decades ago is endless. "I'm not talking about my personal life with you," he answers coldly.

 

Frank's quiet for a moment, but eventually he presses: "You already told me about your husband…and your kids, a little."

 

It's a fair point, but Arthur still glares at him. Frank _definitely_ reminds him of Eames, at least in terms of button-pushing. He briefly wonders why the alpha is prying into his private life, and he temporarily humors the idea that Frank might be working him for information to take back to Browning, but he quickly dismisses the thought. Frank is a bad gambler, and probably has a terrible poker face.

 

In all likelihood, the alpha is as starved for human interaction as Arthur. It has to be a boring, monotonous task to sit outside a cell for days at a time.

 

"We weren't serious," he finally answers, then wonders if that's an accurate summation of his relationship with Saito. He decides it's fair. They might have been something more, but nothing ever solidified.

 

Frank hums thoughtfully and Arthur peers up at him, reluctantly curious. "Apparently _he_ was," Frank says, and though no one articulates it, they're both thinking of the pile of photographs.

 

Arthur decides he's going to grab Saito by the arms and shake him when he finally sees the man. How was Arthur supposed to know he'd been harboring some kind of intense love sickness all these years? And it was unforgivably sloppy of Saito to keep that kind of evidence in his office, where anyone could stumble across it. 

 

 _It's bloody amateurish, is what it is_ , Eames' voice echoes in his head, and he nods a little in agreement.

 

Frank misinterprets the nodding as confirmation of his statement. "Don't feel bad about it. I never know what omegas want. I had a girl once, and she was a real pain in my ass. I worked up the courage to propose, and I'm down on one knee like an idiot, and she _slaps_ me!" he says, laughing. "And she broke up with me, right then and there."

 

Arthur blinks. "Why did she dump you?"

 

The alpha's brow creases, and he looks flummoxed and baffled before saying: "No idea. Who knows what makes omegas tick? Granted, I made out with her sister, but—"

 

"Her _sister_?" Arthur interrupts, brow quirked disapprovingly.

 

"See! That's just how she looked at me!" Frank says, pointing at Arthur's face.

 

They stare at each other a few seconds before both of them burst out laughing. 

 

It's nice to have a normal, albeit strange, moment in the midst of his incarceration. Frank reminds him of some of the men he's worked with over the years—the charmingly ruffled nomads, worldly and ostensibly unscrupulous, yet always operating with an odd kind of moral code in a pinch.

 

He thinks of Eames again—the one man who never double-crossed him.

 

"Frank," he says quietly, once they're done laughing. His Adam's apple is heavy in his throat when he swallows. "You have to make sure I get to go home, okay?"

 

As predicted, Frank seems to take that question very seriously because he stares hard at Arthur for several long moments.

 

Finally, he answers, briefly, but it's enough: "I will."

 

***

 

Jun is like his father. When he enters a room, all eyes turn towards him, and he commands attention—more than Eames, and even more than Cobb. It's clear at once that the man is fully in charge, and none of the other alphas feel comfortable challenging that authority.

 

Not even Ravi, although he does position himself between Max and Jun in a none-too-subtle strategy to keep the alpha away from his mate.

 

It doesn't work, of course. Jun simply tilts his head to the side to peer around the other alpha. "Max. Wonderful to see you again," he says, smiling charmingly as he extends his hand.

 

Max just awoke from a nap, and looks a little confused and pale when he shakes Jun's hand. "Nice to see you. What's going on?"

 

"How is married life? Have you started a family yet?" Jun continues, blunt, just like Saito.

 

Eames recalls the first time they'd discussed with Saito the possibility of setting up Jun and Max, and the man's first question had been: "Is Max fertile?" The Saitos don't mince words, and they have a way of cutting to the heart of the matter in a way that just seems like logical efficiency instead of thoughtless rudeness.

 

Of course, Max shrinks a bit at the direct line of question and murmurs a soft, "No" before Ravi steps forward, blocking Jun's view of Max again.

 

"I think it's best we deal with the matter of Arthur's disappearance," he says, polite, but firm.

 

If Eames was in a better mood, he'd smirk because he's never before seen the jealous side of Ravi. But given the circumstances, all he can feel is grateful that maybe they'll figure out where Arthur is.

 

"Does Saito have a timeframe for finding Arthur?" he asks.

 

Jun fishes his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and chuckles when he gazes down at the screen. "It appears we're somewhat fortuitous. Mr. Browning has hired a man named Frank Costa."

 

Eames looks at Cobb to see if the name rings a bell with the other alpha, but Cobb just shakes his head and shrugs. Frustrated, Eames sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Okay?"

 

"Mr. Costa rented a car, and the rental business affixes GPS to all their vehicles."

 

He stares, lips parted, at Jun for a couple beats, trying to make sense of that level of ineptitude. 

 

"Wait, so you know where dad is?" Jack says.

 

"Indeed," Jun says, nodding. "I have a map right here," he says before Eames crosses the room and rips the smartphone from his grip. To his credit, Jun's expression remains neutrally pleasant. The corners of his mouth even uptick a bit when he looks at Eames. "Let's go get Arthur."

 

***

 

Frank visits pretty regularly, even when Arthur isn't eating. He sits on his chair in the corner, legs crossed, and just shoots the shit with the omega for hours. Arthur figures he doesn't have much to lose, so he tells Frank about dreamshare, and meeting Eames, and his brief stint in the military. In turn, Frank tells him about his fucked up family, and his life as a petty thief and gambler.

 

Things are more or less pleasant (or as pleasant as they can be, given the circumstances) until Browning charges into the cell one afternoon like a rabid bull.

 

He throws open the door with a single yank, and stalks towards Arthur so fast that the omega doesn't have time to defend himself. His wrists are chained behind his back, so he can't even shield his face when the man starts striking—his fists raining down like hammers as he punches Arthur. The pain is instantaneous, and Arthur cries out, curling into himself, but Browning just grabs his hair and pummels him harder. 

 

He feels the moment his nose breaks and blood pours down his face, flooding his mouth, and Arthur chokes on it. Distantly, he hears Frank shouting, and Browning yelling something back. When the man is momentarily distracted, Arthur slumps to the floor, rears up his legs and kicks the alpha in the stomach as hard as he can.

 

Browning howls as he stumbles back, snarls, and charges forward again, but Frank jumps onto the man's back, catching him in a quasi-choke. It doesn't exactly cut off Browning's air supply, but it distracts him from Arthur for a few merciful seconds.

 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Frank barks.

 

"Me?!" Browning pants, wrestling out of Frank's grip so he can violently shove the other alpha backwards. "What about _you_? What the hell are you doing in here?! Having romantic little chats?"

 

Frank gapes at the other alpha, clearly baffled.

 

"My scouts say both Jun and Saito are on the move. Do you know what that means, you worthless ignoramus?" Browning hisses. "It means _he_ ," Browning points at Arthur, who remains bloodied and battered on the floor, "Somehow contacted them with his location."

 

Frank shakes his head. "No way. That's crazy. I've been watching him the whole time."

 

"Bullshit!" Browning roars, and Arthur curls into himself, afraid the man is going to run back over and start kicking him in the stomach. He has no way of protecting himself, so he just curls into a tight ball, occasionally spitting onto the floor when his mouth fills with blood again. "We're moving him tonight," Browning adds. "And for extra incentive…" he says, and Arthur can hear his heels clicking on the cement floor, growing louder as he approaches. Arthur groans and shuts his eyes tightly, waiting for the onslaught to resume. Instead, Browning grabs his hair, pulls back his head, and snaps another photo of his face. "Just in case Mr. Saito doesn't think I'm serious."

 

Arthur's head drops back to the cement, and this time he doesn't have the strength to stop his cheek from colliding with the hard, cold floor. His right eye is badly swollen, and he can't see out of it, but he hears the moment Browning leaves and the door slides back into place.

 

" _Shit_ ," Frank whispers, rushing over to him. He feels the alpha tentatively touch his neck—maybe checking for a pulse, which is dumb because Arthur is clearly alive. 

 

Frank rolls him onto his back, another stupid move because he could choke on his blood, so he groans to let the alpha know he's conscious. Thankfully, Frank pulls him into a seated position so Arthur's chin can loll to his chest and the blood pours out of his mouth and down the front of his chest. Better to ruin his clothes than choke on the stuff, he supposes. Arthur runs his tongue along the front of his teeth, checking to see if Browning knocked any of them loose.

 

They feel secure, so he itemizes the damage: a broken nose, a possibly partially detached retina. He's had worse.

 

When he opens his left eye, Frank's concerned face fills his vision. "Jesus, kid. You okay?"

 

Arthur has no choice but to smirk at the question. "I'm great," he replies dryly, and his voice sounds strange to his ears. He must have bitten his tongue, and his lips are probably swollen.

 

"Hang in there," Frank encourages, gripping his shoulders. "We'll figure something out. We're just—"

 

"Don't let him…move me," Arthur slurs, struggling to keep his left eye open and fixed on Frank.

 

The man looks a little helpless in response to the command. His mouth opens, but he doesn't say anything.

 

"If…he moves me…he'll kill me," Arthur explains, knowing this to be completely true. Eames always brags he knows people better than Arthur, but Arthur knows soldiers better than Eames. He recognizes the murderous look in Browning's eyes, and he knows the insane competitive streak driving the man. 

 

This has never been about money. Browning wants Saito to suffer—first by believing he can save Arthur, and then by killing Arthur as punishment for Inception.

 

Even though they're around the same age, Frank looks like a lost boy when Arthur presents him with the huge, impossible request—to somehow defy Browning and live to tell the tale.

 

But like most thieves, Frank isn't ready to surrender his honor entirely just yet: "You got it, kid. We'll get out of here. You and me."


	8. Chapter 8

Rose and Jack immediately insist on joining the search party, but Eames is in no mood to even humor the idea, and the request tears his last nerve. He ends up shouting until he's red in the face, and Cobb is forced to intervene, murmuring, "There's no time. Eames, we've no time for this," until he begrudgingly deescalates and breathes deeply through his nose to calm himself.

 

The commotion upsets Max, who shaken and crying quietly, pardons himself with the excuse that he doesn't feel well, and lays down in the bedroom again. Of course, this means they'll be down another alpha, Ravi, because he'll most certainly want to stay and protect his mate. Eames tells himself that's a good thing, though. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to his son-in-law, leaving Max a widower.

 

Once Ravi has gone to take care of Max, and shuts the bedroom door behind him, Eames looks at his children. "This isn't like the dream. You could actually get hurt," he says.

 

"We just want to help," Jack offers.

 

"Eames, we don't have time for a debate," Cobb reminds him again.

 

Eames looks over to the other alphas and Jun nods affirmatively. The more time they waste here, bickering among themselves, the more time Browning has to harm Arthur. Rose and Jack are more than capable of hopping in a car and following them anyway, which will kill their chances of operating with stealth, and Eames realizes he's the only member of the party hindering their plan.

 

"Fine, but you stay in the car," he says.

 

"Can I have a gun?" asks Jack

 

"No!" Eames cries, which Ariadne takes as a cue to intervene.

 

"You're not trained," she explains rationally, and thankfully Jack doesn't press the matter.

 

Jun came prepared, and when they exit the house, he leads them to his car and pops open the trunk, revealing a bevy of arms neatly stacked inside. Eames' eyes widen and he immediately glances up and down the street to make sure none of the neighbors are out mowing the lawn or something. Luckily, Max and Ravi live on a sleepy little street and there don't appear to be any curious eyes watching them from windows.

 

"Holy shit," Rose whispers from behind him and Eames turns around quickly.

 

"You're not to touch anything. You're to stay in the car, do you hear me?" he hisses, pauses, and amends: "And you can never tell Arthur."

 

Rose rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I can keep a secret. Runs in our family, remember?"

 

The comment stings a bit, and subdues Eames into silence long enough for Cobb to seize control of the moment again. 

 

"Jun, Eames, Ariadne, and I will ride in the lead car. Rose and Jack, you're going to ride behind us."

 

"This is like Christmas," Ariadne coos as she pulls out a handgun and checks to make sure it's loaded. It apparently is because she tucks it into the back of her pants, just beneath the waistband. 

 

"So you're going to leave us alone, unarmed, in a car? What if someone sneaks up on us?" Rose asks.

 

The idea immediately inspires a new round of horror in Eames. "That's it. You're not going."

 

"I'll ride with them," Ariadne says quickly, and when the alphas look at her, she shrugs. "That way, someone is with them who is armed, and you don't have to stress about your kids shooting themselves. Happy?"

 

Eames recognizes this as the beta's attempt to smooth things over between them—first, because of leaving the PASIV where she shouldn't have, and second, for letting Browning's henchmen get the jump on her. He nods slowly.

 

Ariadne takes two more handguns, conceals them inside her jacket, and then nods towards Cobb's car. "Shall we?" she says, catching the keys when Cobb tosses them her way.

 

"Be careful," the alpha says.

 

Ariadne smiles. "You know me," she says breezily, leading the way towards the unassuming gray Caprice.

 

Jack and Rose follow their aunt like obedient little ducklings, and Eames again feels his stomach tie itself in knots. Despite everything, he does trust Ariadne, but he knows Arthur would call this whole idea unforgivably stupid.

 

 _I'm sorry, darling. I don't have a choice_ , he thinks as he takes a handgun from Jun's hand when the alpha extends it to him. 

 

About a minute later, they pile into the car and drive off, Ariadne and the sprogs trailing behind.

 

***

 

Frank leaves him alone for a long time, until it's night outside, and so Arthur has no choice but to remain sprawled on the ground in cold darkness. His nose is broken, so he has to breath through his mouth, but even that is difficult because the taste of stale blood makes him want to gag on every inhale. The good news is, his eye is less swollen, and he can see when the lid pulls back, so the retina must not be detached. His lips feel a little like they've been shot full of Novocaine—hanging huge and thick around his teeth, and causing his speech to slur. 

 

Arthur sits against the wall and watches the thin strip of light at the bottom of the door, praying he'll see a shadow pass across it soon, which will mean Frank has returned. The man swore he wouldn't leave Arthur, and for some reason, he chooses to believe the alpha. But it's been hours now, and Frank still hasn't returned, probably because Browning is forcing him to run around, making hasty, last minute plans to move Arthur somewhere else.

 

Part of him thinks it's good that Browning's plans have been sent into a tailspin, but he also knows chaos might make Browning less rational—more likely to make a stupid, sloppy decision like shooting Arthur in a ravine somewhere.

 

Suddenly, shadows appear across the strip of light and Arthur pulls himself into a rigid posture, bracing himself in case it's Browning, and not Frank, standing outside. The door opens and light floods the room from the hallway, and Arthur has to squint and blink his eyes rapidly in order to see who it is.

 

It's Frank, but he quickly holds up his finger to his lips to indicate they won't be alone for long, and as if on cue, Browning enter the room a few seconds later.

 

"Sir, there's something wrong with the car," Frank says immediately, turning to face his boss.

 

"What?" the man shouts. "What do you mean? What's wrong with it?"

 

"I don't know. It won't start," Frank says, in a very convincing performance. He even manages to look slightly dismayed at the news.

 

Arthur's gaze trails down the sleeves of Frank's suit and he spots streaks of motor oil embedded in the fabric. He imagines Franke waist-deep under the hood of the car, slashing and pulling wires until the car is disabled.

 

"Well, figure something out," Browning snarls. "Find another car."

 

Frank throws up his hands. "Sir, where? We're in the middle of no where. Where am I going to get a car? The ravine? Up by the highway?"

 

Arthur listens carefully when he realizes Frank is giving him a vague map of the area, perhaps to aid him if he escapes. Unfortunately, he isn't able to secure any more details because Browning charges Frank, emitting a terrible, enraged shout as he pins the other alpha against the wall by his neck. "Listen to me, you worthless mongrel!" he spits. "I don't care where you find one. Just find it! Steal it if you have to!"

 

Frank can't breathe, and his face is red as he attempts in vain to gasp for air. It's only when Browning relaxes his viselike grip on the alpha's throat that Frank sucks in air and answers him: "Y-yes. Yeah, okay."

 

"Do it now!" Browning adds, then completely releases the man and stalks from the room.

 

For several moments after Browning's exit, Frank gasps for breath, occasionally glancing at the door, perhaps to make sure the other alpha is actually gone. Eventually, he crosses the room and crouches by Arthur. "Listen, kid. I gotta go get a car."

 

"No," Arthur gasps, eyes widening. Any confidence he'd previously felt that Browning wouldn't kill him to maintain his leverage has completely vanished after seeing how unhinged the man actually is. Browning is wildly unpredictable, and Arthur hates changing variables. He has no idea what the man will do if they're alone. "You can't leave me with him," he says, speech still slurred as it leaves his misshapen mouth.

 

"I have to. I'm sorry," Frank sighs, awkwardly patting Arthur's shoulder in what is probably supposed to be a comforting fashion. "Look, I'll buy you time. Your people will be here soon."

 

Arthur isn't proud of the distressed noise that escapes his mouth when Frank stands up and backs away from him. He's panicking, completely sure that if he's left alone with Browning, the man is going to kill him. He has no way of defending himself with his hands locked behind his back, not to mention his battered body and broken spirit. If Frank leaves, he's going to die.

 

"Frank…" he says, naively believing they're still in the negotiation phase of this plan, and he still has time to convince the man to stay. But suddenly, Frank turns on his heels and walks out of the room, and Arthur surges forward instinctively, as if he can stop him. It's foolish, of course, and he ends up sprawled on his side on the floor. "Frank!" he howls again, his voice broken and desperate.

 

***

 

It's nighttime by the time they pull off the highway and start negotiating their way down an exit normally used by utility vehicles. The path is unpaved and bloody bumpy, and Eames ends up gripping the strap affixed to the ceiling to steady himself as he looks around.

 

Jun is driving, his smartphone resting in a holder on the dashboard. Their location is represented by a green dot on the screen, and they're gradually nearing the red dot, which is Arthur's location.

 

When a clicking noise emanates from the back seat, Eames glances over his shoulder and sees Cobb switching the safety off his gun. Cobb isn't the best shot in the real world—he's much more accurate in dreams, and Eames again feels a sharp longing to find Arthur and have his mate at his side again. Arthur is a brilliant marksman—both in close quarters and as a sniper.

 

Jun doesn't use his high beams, and Eames thinks that's a good judgment call. It would make it easier to see where they're driving, but it might also give away their location. However, they do use the regular headlights, which only allows them to see three meters ahead of them at any given time. When he glances in the rearview mirror, he sees Ariadne is also using her regular headlights, trailing a few meters behind them.

 

It's a smart strategy. If they get into a gun fight, it will give her enough space to turn around and excelerate out of the area to keep Jack and Rose safe.

 

Eames hits a button on the door and slowly unrolls his window so he can stick his head outside. He wants to be able to use all his senses in order to find Arthur.

 

He hears the sound of water babbling somewhere near them—maybe in a creek or ravine. 

 

"Slow down," he instructs, and when Jun does, the sounds of their tires grinding against small pebbles fills his ears.

 

And then before them emerges the silhouette of a man walking along the path. 

 

He turns around the moment he sees the light, and the car, and begins waving his arms frantically. Eames is out of the car before Jun stops entirely, gun drawn, aimed squarely at the man's chest. "Are you armed?" he shouts, uncaring if his voice carries through the woods.

 

"Woah! Jesus, dude!" the man cries when he sees the gun. "Don't shoot! Yes," he says. "Just…let me…" The man fumbles for a moment, and Eames focuses on breathing steadily—on not having an itchy trigger finger. He tells himself this man might be able to take them straight to Arthur, or he might have valuable information about where his mate is being held. After what seems like an eternity, the man finally pulls out his gun from his waistband, holding it limply by his index finger, which loops in the trigger. He tosses it forward so it lands near Eames' feet.

 

Cobb climbs out of the car as Eames ducks down to pick up the gun and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. "Turn around, keep your hands above your head, and back towards me. Slowly," Eames instructs.

 

The man, who is still nothing more than a shadow, nods and obeys. When he's close enough, Eames orders him to stop and pats him down quickly. Other than the gun, he's unarmed. Eames backs away, trains his gun on him again, and says: "Turn around." Eames has never seen the man before, but he's definitely an alpha, around Eames' age, and looks like he's had a rough couple of days, judging by his rumpled suit and the stubble lining his face. "Where's Arthur?"

 

Squinting, the man eyes him mistrustfully. "Are you his mate?" he asks.

 

"Answer me!" Eames shouts, aware he's breaking protocol, but not caring. He can picture the disapproving scowl of his mate. _I'm sorry, love. No time for the rulebook today._

 

"Jesus! Calm down," the man cries. "He's in a warehouse near here. You just follow the path around the next bend and you'll see it on your right. There's a car parked out front."

 

"Is he all right?" Cobb asks.

 

The man sighs. "I mean, relatively speaking."

 

Eames feels the corner of his eye twitch when he flicks off the safety and steps forward, aiming the barrel between the man's eyebrows. " _Relatively speaking_ , we don't need you alive anymore since we know where he is now," he growls.

 

"Eames…" Cobb says, perhaps recognizing the dangerous tone of his colleague's voice.

 

The man apparently doesn't think Eames is bluffing because his eyes bulge and he shrinks back slightly when the gun enters is line of vision. "Wait! Hold on. _Hold_ on. I was trying to help him, man!"

 

"Bullshit," Eames hisses.

 

"No, I swear! We're friends…I tried to stop Browning from beating on him, and we talked about your family, and stuff," he babbles, eyeing the gun, terrified. "You—You gamble right? I gamble too, but Arthur said you're probably better than me."

 

Cobb snorts, and the statement is enough for Eames to relax minutely. It's possible Browning fed this man the information about Eames' gambling, but it's also likely Arthur befriended his guard as part of a plan to escape. That seems like a very Arthurian scheme, anyway.

 

"Get in the car," Eames says, nodding to the back door that Cobb left open.

 

"What's your name?" Cobb asks once they've piled inside and Jun slowly drives up the trail again.

 

"Frank," he answers, extending a hand that Eames does not accept. The man smirks and withdraws the offer. "Anyway, nice to meet you guys. Glad you didn't blow my head off."

 

" _Yet_ ," Eames adds ominously, squinting out the window as he searches for the warehouse.

 

"Right, _yet_. Thanks. I appreciate the trust," Frank answer dryly. "Listen, I gotta warn you. Browning is in a bad place, man. I don't know what he's planning, but he's ready to come out, guns blazing."

 

Eames nods slowly. "We'll be ready for him."

 

As they turn the corner, the trees part, revealing a warehouse that is nothing more than a concrete cube resting on the bank of the ravine. As promised, there is a car parked in front of the building, but its lights are off and no one is inside the vehicle.

 

"My father will be here soon. Hopefully with reinforcements," Jun says, slowing to a stop and cutting the engine.

 

"Saito?" Frank asks from the back seat, and immediately laughs. "Oh man. This is going to be a real party."


	9. Chapter 9

"What're they doing? Can you see?" Jack asks from the back seat.

 

Ariadne exhales sharply as she grips the wheel, eyes darting from the red taillights of Jun's car to the huge warehouse. The stranger is still with Cobb and Eames, seated in the back, and when Jun cuts the engine, Ariadne follows suit, leaving them in darkness.

 

"No. Be quiet," she says, removing her seatbelt and sliding a hand into her jacket to grip the handle of the gun. 

 

"Who is that guy?" Rose asks, ignoring Ariadne and leaning forward in the seat so she can poke her head between the seats and gaze at her aunt's profile.

 

Ariadne sighs, but doesn't scold Rose. She doesn't want to get into a shouting match that will distract her from monitoring the rest of the group. There had been a moment, back when they were driving along the dark path, that she thought Eames would kill the stranger—perhaps shoot him in the middle of the woods. Ariadne had told the kids to get down, supposedly to protect themselves from any gunfire, but really she didn't want her nephew and niece to witness their father murdering someone.

 

"I don't know," she answers truthfully. 

 

Whoever he is, Eames must have had a good reason not to kill him. She watches the men converse in the car—Jun and Eames turning around in their seats so they can speak with Cobb and the stranger.

 

"Maybe he knows where dad is," Rose says softly. 

 

Of course, the kids believe Arthur is alive, and Ariadne clings to their optimism like a life raft. During the drive, they rode in silence, which left her with plenty of time to remember meeting Arthur—how kind and generous he'd been with his time. The point man has a reputation in dreamshare as being cold, antisocial, and shrill, but that's not the full truth. Arthur is also a wonderful, loyal man, who taught Ariadne when most experienced dreamers would have laughed her out of the room.

 

"Yeah…" she responds, knowing the kids are awaiting confirmation.

 

 _Arthur is alive_ , she repeats to herself. _He's alive_.

 

They sit in darkness for a long time, and eventually Ariadne places the gun on her lap—just in case. Occasionally, she glances in the car mirrors, checking the perimeter. They're truly in the middle of no where—the nearest neighbor is probably miles away, and the closest trace of civilization is the highway. Ariadne thinks about calling Cobb on her cellphone, but decides against it. It's best to remain undistracted and observant.

 

They wait—silence filling the car, and the sounds of nature muffled through the windows' glass. She hears the rush of water, and the stubborn symphony of a handful of crickets. Wind rustles the tops of the trees surrounding them, the dancing branches playing with the moon's light and casting shadows that cause Ariadne to nervously twitch. 

 

When the earth settles around them again, they wait in darkness and silence. 

 

Ariadne's breath hitches in her throat when she spots headlights in the rearview mirror. _Cars_ —three cars, specifically, rapidly approaching the warehouse. "Shit," she gasps. There's no way to back away from the building without putting them in an even more dangerous position, so instead she tells the kids, "Get down," and unrolls her window. Ariadne hunches in her seat, protecting as much of her body as possible, and points the barrel of the gun at the lead vehicle.

 

She waits.

 

Jack and Rose lay across the back seat, the alpha's hand splayed protectively across his sister's head, as if to cover her ear from any potential cacophony. 

 

They're definitely hostiles—wheels peeling as they accelerate towards the warehouse and box in Ariadne and Jun. 

 

She doesn't wait for an order, or for one of her teammates to open fire first. The second the first hostile throws open the car door and steps outside, Ariadne shoots him in the neck. The man behind him whips around in her direction and aims his weapon, but she shoots him between the eyes. "Stay down," she shouts, even though the kids haven't moved an inch. 

 

Headlights illuminate the plain where Eames and Cobb stand outside the car, using the doors to shield themselves as they return fire. Ariadne only sees her teammates shooting briefly, when she pauses to shove a fresh clip into the gun. The window above Cobb's head shatters, and Ariadne freezes—the next terrible seconds dragging, accompanied by a metronome pounding in her head—until Cobb moves and she knows he's alive and unharmed.

 

She only hesitates three seconds before aiming the barrel out the window again and squeezing the trigger, killing another henchman.

 

Someone is shouting—a voice she doesn't recognize emanating from Jun's car, and she knows it must be the stranger. She only catches a glimpse of him curled up on the backseat, covering his head. Eames must have taken his gun, so hiding is the only option at this point.

 

The mercenaries seem to glean Ariadne is the best shot because soon their attention turns solely to her vehicle. She's forced to slumped down in her seat and take cover when the back windshield explodes, along with the window nearest to Rose. To her credit, her niece doesn't scream, and when Ariadne glances back, Jack is still covering his sister's head, protecting her from the shards of glass. His hands are cut, but beyond that, he seems unharmed.

 

"Almost there!" she shouts above the noise, and fires a volley at the most bothersome henchman—the tall asshole with the rounds of ammunition slung across his chest like Rambo. Ariadne fells him with three shots—two in the chest and one in the jaw.

 

These are definitely Browning's guys, and they came equipped for a massacre. _Guess we're past the negotiation phase_ , she thinks before glancing out the window again. There's smoke billowing in the headlights, clouding the already dark area, and making it difficult to see anything just beyond her window. It's quiet, though, and Ariadne waits.

 

Another gust of wind pushes some of the smoke aside, and she sees bodies piled around the cars—nine, in total—and she lowers her weapon. "All clear," she says to the kids, and opens her door. 

 

Rose and Jack sit up hesitantly, pieces of glass sliding off Rose's mane of hair. Her brother helps her brush off the shards, and they climb out of the vehicle to stand beside their aunt. Though both her niece and nephew are taller then Ariadne, they walk behind her like she's a protective shield as they approach the other car.

 

"I'm fine. It's nothing," Eames says while Cobb hunches over at his side.

 

The forger's side is soaked red and Ariande presses her lips together when she sees the blood.

 

" _Dad_ ," Rose gasps. "Are you okay?" she asks, rushing over to him.

 

"I'm fine," he repeats in a way Ariadne has heard many times before. It means Eames is not fine, but he's going to soldier through the pain. "Just nicked me. Ariadne, keep them in the car," he instructs before looking at Jun. "Do you have a medical kit?"

 

The other alpha nods and bends across the passenger seat to pop open the glove compartment where a small medical kit rests. 

 

"Oh my God," the stranger groans, seated on the backseat, his feet extending out the door to rest on the ground. "Holy shit. I thought that was it, man. Those guys weren't fucking around," he says breathlessly, then squints up at Ariadne. "You smoke?"

 

She quirks a brow at him. "No."

 

He nods and then looks her up and down. "I'm Frank, by the way."

 

"Quiet," Eames growls and then looks at Cobb. "Just slap gauze on it and let's go." After checking the gun clip, he holds the side of his shirt up, away from the kids, so they don't see the gash in his side as Cobb takes the bandages from Jun and dresses the wound. Eames looks up at her while Cobb works. "Nice shooting."

 

Ariadne nods. "Thanks," she says before touching Rose's shoulder. "C'mon. Let's wait in the car."

 

Her niece's eyes are huge as she looks from Eames to Ariadne. "You sure you're okay?" she asks quietly.

 

Jack is silent as he watches Eames, but he's very pale, and his Adam's apple keeps bobbing, like he's trying to swallow but his throat has suddenly gone dry. 

 

Eames' expression softens a bit when he takes a moment to acknowledge the fear on his children's faces. "Really, I'm okay," he says again, his tone gentle this time. "Just going to get dad and we'll all go home, yeah?" Eames says casually, like he's just going to the store to pick up some milk.

 

The kids are reassured, though, and they obediently follow Ariadne when she walks back to the car. Distantly, Ariadne hears Frank say, "I'm fine too," but she ignores him.

 

Rose climbs in the passenger seat this time, since her section of the car is covered in broken glass. Jack takes the other half of the backseat, and they watch quietly as the four men run into the warehouse.

 

"It's just Browning, right? That's four against once. He doesn't have a chance," Jack says, but he sounds nervous, like he's asking for reassurance rather than stating an inevitability.

 

Browning is a dangerous man ordinarily, but now he's angry, as well. More than most, Ariadne knows what the man is capable of, but she nods in agreement nonetheless: 

 

"They got this."

 

***

 

The inside of the warehouse is dark and dank, but Jun has a small flashlight he uses to illuminate the wide corridors. 

 

"Where is he?" Eames asks Frank the moment they cross the main threshold.

 

"Last I checked, back this way," the other alpha says, walking quickly down the hallway, turning right, and then left, until they arrive at a large steel door. But when Frank pulls it open, the room is empty. "Shit," he sighs, throwing up his hand. "This is where he was."

 

The concrete floor is stained with dark patches—blood. Eames' brain goes offline for a few seconds, and when it flickers back to life, he's pointing the gun at Frank. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jun and Cobb watching him warily. He decides to go with it anyway, voice menacing as he says: "Find him."

 

"I don't know where he is, man," Frank cries, hands raised helplessly in surrender. "But he's somewhere in here. Browning couldn't have taken him anywhere else."

 

"Right, we're splitting up," Eames says, not waiting for a consensus before he marches from the room.

 

"You don't have a flashlight," Cobb declares to his back.

 

"I'm fine," Eames replies, pulling out his cellphone to illuminate the way.

 

***

 

_Half an hour earlier_

 

Arthur's lungs burn, and he knows he's hyperventilating, so he focuses on evening out his breath—sucking in air deeply before releasing it in a slow, steady stream. Gradually, that reduces the speed of his heartbeat, and the black edges at the perimeters of his gaze vanish. 

 

He pulls himself out of the abyss of panic.

 

Frank is gone, and along with him, his only means of escape, but it's not over yet. He reminds himself that Eames is coming, and soon Browning will have to contend with a fall-on assault. 

 

There's still hope.

 

Arthur curls up agains the wall and waits, the scuffle of rats as they race across the room, the wind outside, all sounding like Peter Browning returning to murder Arthur. Instead of trusting his traitor ears, Arthur focuses on the strip of light under the door. He waits for shadows to appear, carrying death with them.

 

Instead, a clarion of car engines filters in through the window, and Arthur looks up so sharply he bumps the back of his head against the wall.

 

The room swims for a second, but he clings to the sound, focusing on the beehive of noise. It's definitely cars, but any hope he feels extinguishes immediately when the light disappears from the bottom of the door moments before it flies open.

 

Enough moonlight fills the room to reveal the silhouette of Browning, impossibly large and intimidating for an alpha his age. Arthur curls up, as if he can will himself to disappear, but of course that strategy is futile. Browning storms over to him and unlocks Arthur's wrists. He should probably do something—punch the alpha, or try to escape, but he's too weak, and he doesn't have time to formulate a plan before the man locks his wrists behind his back again and pulls him to his feet.

 

"Time to go," he declares gruffly, shoving Arthur towards the door.

 

He has no idea where they're going, but it doesn't matter. Browning pulls and pushes, directing Arthur through the labyrinth of corridors until they're in an office. It seems as though the alpha has cut the electricity to the place, perhaps to better conceal them. Gun fire emanates from outside the window and Arthur glances at Browning in time to see the man nervously glance up and down the corridor before shutting the door.

 

The calvary has arrived, but Arthur by no means feels relieved. Browning is agitated, gripping a gun in his hand as he paces back and forth, occasionally peering out the window.

 

"You can still get away," Arthur says, even though talking makes his whole head throb. He wants to sit down, but he's afraid to move and startle Browning. "Just let me walk out the front door, and you can escape through the back."

 

Browning's laugh is loud and ugly. "You're really stupid, aren't you? I don't want to _run_ like a coward," Browning spits disdainfully.

 

Arthur watches him quietly for a few beats. "Saito isn't going to negotiate with you," he says.

 

The alpha slowly reclines against the edge of a desk, and folds his arms across his chest, gun resting against his bicep. "I'm not interested in negotiating," he replies calmly, eyeing Arthur. "But you know that already."

 

It's true. He'd tried countless times to convince Frank of this reality—that Browning is not interested in actually extorting Saito. But hearing the alpha articulate his worst fears temporarily knocks the wind out of him. Browning wants to hurt Saito in the worst way imaginable, and that means killing Arthur.

 

Arthur wishes he was coherent enough to fight—to launch across the room and attack Browning, even if it means dying. At least he would die like a man. But he's malnourished and badly wounded, the days old head wound disorienting him. "I have to…just…" he murmurs softly before the room tilts and he lands hard on his side. 

 

Arms locked behind his back, the side of his face slams against the concrete floor, temporarily stunning him. But when he's coherent again, anger overwhelms the fear he feels when he curls up on his side. He doesn't want to die this way—curled up on the floor, unable to put up a fight. 

 

Browning ticks sarcastically. "Not feeling well?" the man asks.

 

Arthur responds by wretching, but there's no food in his stomach to vomit, so he just ends up gagging loudly. His body spasms painfully, eyes clenched shut, tears squeezes out from the corner of them. This is the most pain he's ever been in—worse than childbirth, because at least that ordeal had a joyous conclusion, and Eames was with him the whole time.

 

But to be tortured with a certain destination of death…it's too much.

 

Arthur groans, half-delirious, every uttered sound causing his face to throb, and his stomach to churn. He wants to tell Browning to just do it—put him out of his misery, but then he thinks of Eames and the kids, and tells himself to hang on just a few more minutes.

 

When he looks up, Browning is pushing something around on the desk, and when he picks up one of the papers, Arthur sees it's not actually paper, but one of the photos. "It seems Mr. Saito and I have at least one thing in common," he says, gazing from the photo to Arthur, who remains curled up on the floor. "Obsessing over the past."

 

Arthur opens his mouth—not to beg, but to tell Browning to go fuck himself, but suddenly the noise outside stops.

 

An eerie shroud of silence settles over them, and Arthur watches Browning warily when the man stands up and cocks the gun. He wonders if Browning's henchmen were successful, but that hint of doubt vanishes when a loud thud echoes down the hallway. Someone has broken inside, and it must be Arthur's teammates judging by the furious expression on Browning's face.

 

"Get up," the man growls, pulling Arthur up by his arm and throwing him against the desk. 

 

Arthur cries out loudly, because it hurts like hell, but also because he wants to let the others know his location. Apparently knowing his intentions, Browning grips his hair and shakes him violently. "Shut up," he mutters, shoving the barrel of the gun under his chin. 

 

Arthur obeys, swallowing thickly, shoulders throbbing as his wrists pull against the restraints. Browning is half-draped over him, the added weight making it difficult for Arthur to take full breaths, but he's afraid to move and spook Browning, whose finger is draped across the gun's trigger.

 

The voices are closer now—near enough that Arthur can distinguish them from one another. His heartbeat speeds up when he hears Cobb, and it reaches a frantic pace when Eames answers him. They're close— _so close_ , but Arthur is terrified Browning will shoot and kill Eames or Cobb, or both of them, the second they charge through the door.

 

"Don't—" he chokes right before Eames kicks in the door and Browning whips around to aim the gun. "No!" Arthur cries, louder this time, an order directed at both Eames and Browning. If one of them starts shooting, it'll turn into a melee that could potentially kill all of them. 

 

Eames doesn't shoot, but he keeps the gun trained on the other alpha. His gaze flicks over to the omega, and Arthur knows his face must be a mess because the corner of Eames' eyes twitches and his finger tightens on the trigger when he looks back at Browning.

 

"Don't," Arthur says again, wishing his voice didn't sound like such a slurred tangle, and his arms weren't pinned behind his back. When Arthur strains against the cuffs, his shoulders throb in warning. 

 

"Listen to him," Browning says to Eames, his tone cutting and cruel. "Don't waste your bullets on him. He's not worth it."

 

It's a strange strategy—unexpected enough to make Arthur and Eames pause. He can't imagine what Browning's play here is—to turn spouses against one another? The idea would be laughable if attempted by anyone else, but Browning is such a lunatic Arthur instead feels a creeping nausea. Browning wouldn't attempt it if he didn't actually think it _might work_.

 

Browning keeps the gun aimed at Eames, but with his free hand, flips open the file on the table, and spreads out the photographs. The alpha slumps to the side, keeping Arthur pinned against the desk as he reveals the surveillance shots. Arthur watches him in confused silence and then glances over to Eames, who is also monitoring the bizarre demonstration. Arthur's gaze trails down until he sees a dark stain soaking through Eames' trench coat. His mate is hurt, and this realization draws Arthur out of his stupor momentarily. He instinctively pulls at the restraints again and bucks against the desk, but his efforts are useless.

 

What Browning says next completely distracts Arthur from Eames' injury: "Arthur and Saito have been having an affair for decades."

 

The statement is so ridiculous that Arthur guffaws, even though it causes his head to pound, and his ribs to ache when they expand against the hard surface of the desktop. "You're a fucking liar!" he declares, eyes widening before he looks to Eames. 

 

"Am I? Saito has been in love with Arthur for years. The photos prove that. And occasionally, they meet up when is Arthur is on one of his so-called business trips: São Paulo in 2006, Mexico City in 2008, Sydney in 2011. I can show you their identical plane tickets, the hotel receipts, anything you like, Mr. Eames," Browning says calmly.

 

Arthur is so stunned that he doesn't know what to say, or how to defend himself, largely because he doesn't know what's real and what's a lie anymore. It's true Arthur was in those cities on those dates for dreamshare work, but he has no idea if the part about Saito also being there is true. Clearly, the man has been nurturing an obsession for Arthur, but how deep does it go? Was he personally tailing the omega, or did he send someone on behalf in a warped attempt to provide protection, or is Browning lying about the whole thing?

 

From personal experience, Arthur knows how easy it is to forge receipts—to create a paper trail where there was none before. 

 

"I wouldn't…I would _never_ ," he croaks helplessly. 

 

It's impossible to prove a negative, however. Arthur doesn't have a way to present evidence that he _hasn't_ been having an affair with Saito. Eames will just have to believe him.

 

Browning is a brilliant strategist after all. He, of all people, understands planting a seed of doubt—an idea—in someone's mind can create an endless ripple effect of consequences. Eames might not shoot Arthur in a jealous rage, but the idea of his mate betraying him could serve as a distraction, a small window of opportunity, for Browning to exploit and escape. 

 

Browning's wager is that Arthur and Eames' bond isn't as strong as the alpha's jealousy.

 

It's a good, solid thesis. If he'd pitched it during a brainstorming session, Arthur might have even been impressed and given him a respectful nod of recognition. 

 

But like so many good, solid theses before it, Browning's wager is wrong.

 

Eames looks away from the photos, to Arthur's face, listens to his denial, and shoots. Browning's blood sprays against the side of Arthur's face, and the weight suddenly leaves his back when the alpha slumps against the wall before toppling to the floor.

 

The shot rings out, echoing down the hallway, and Arthur is too stunned to move until he hears the others charging down the hallway. "Who was that? Who shot?" Cobb cries out, moments before he appears in the doorway.

 

"Me," Eames says calmly. "It was me," he says, crossing the room and immediately tending to Arthur. He carefully touches the omega's face, checking the injuries, and it hurts so badly, but Arthur doesn't want him to stop. 

 

He pinches his eyes closed when tears slide down his face, and he should feel embarrassed for crying in front of the team, but he doesn't. Arthur is exhausted, and in agony, and he wants to go home.

 

"Can you walk?" Eames asks softly.

 

Arthur shakes his head, and Cobb says from behind them: "I can help," he offers.

 

Eames quickly responds: "No, I can," and fishes the cuff keys from Browning's pocket to free Arthur's wrists. Afterwards, even though he's injured, the alpha effortlessly picks up Arthur and carries him from the room. 

 

It's so easy to curl up against Eames and succumb to unconsciousness. Arthur, for the first time in days, knows he's finally safe, and gives his brain permission to rest. No amount of jostling lifts him from his slumber—not when he's placed in the car, not during the drive, not even when Eames carries him upstairs and places him under the covers of Max and Ravi's bed.

 

He awakes in fits. The first time his eyes open, Max is curled up beside him, also asleep, and Arthur smiles slightly before he drops off again. The next time he awakes, the bed is empty, and there's a glass of water on the beside table. He drains the glass, sets it down on the table, and falls back asleep.

 

The next time, Eames is sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking his forehead in a comforting fashion, and saying something about a doctor. Apparently, his nose is broken, but some doctor set it, and his eye will heal eventually. He had a concussion, but he should pull through.

 

"I love you, my darling," Eames whispers, and Arthur smiles genuinely for the first time in days.

 

His lips hurt when Eames kisses them, but Arthur doesn't care.

 

He slips in and out of consciousness like this for days, but on the third day, when he opens his eyes, Arthur knows he's turned a corner. Everything in the room looks brighter and sharper, and he can process details he couldn't before: the soft murmur of voices in the adjacent room, the jostling of branches against the bedroom window. He's more aware and alert, which must be positive signs.

 

Max is asleep at his side again, but once Arthur rolls on the mattress to face his son, he wakes up and squints hesitantly at his father. "How're you feeling?" he asks hoarsely. Arthur smooths back the other omega's fringe to touch Max's brow, frowning because he feels a little warm.

 

"I'm okay, baby. How are you?" Arthur asks, voice rough from sleep.

 

Max looks pale and slightly gaunt, but then again, Arthur supposes all the kids have been through the wringer the past few days. And historically, Max, more than the other kids, doesn't handle stress very well. His son shrugs languidly. "I'm fine. I have to tell you something, but it can wait."

 

"No, tell me," Arthur whispers, even though his eyelids are heavy again, and he feels the familiar pull of sleep at the back of his mind.

 

The last thing he remembers is Max's cool hand on his forehead as he murmurs: "I will. Later."


	10. Chapter 10

When Arthur wakes next, the blinds of the window are open, but it's dark outside. Eames is seated on the edge of the bed again, watching him, lips slightly upturned in a pleasant expression. There's no chatter from the next room, and when Arthur furrows his brow, the alpha answers before he can even formulate a question.

 

"They went to get some dinner. I told them to bring us back something," Eames explains. "Cobb and Ariadne had to leave, but they said they'll be in touch soon."

 

Arthur nods slightly. It's protocol to quickly scatter after a job, so he's not surprised to learn the other teammates are gone. He imagines Jun is already back in Japan by now, and who knows where Frank has gone to? That means it's just them and the kids in the apartment, and the thought comforts Arthur greatly. He doesn't want other people around him right now, even if those people are Cobb and Ariadne.

 

Leaning forward, Arthur winces when he tries to sit up, and Eames swiftly moves to grab a pillow and slide it behind the omega's back so he has a bit more support when he reclines against the headboard. His head still pounds whenever he moves, and his lips feel as though they're made of lead, but at least now he doesn't slip into unconsciousness as much. He's afraid to look into a mirror at his damaged face, but Eames doesn't seem to have any trouble gazing at him, although that may be related to his combat experience.

 

While looking at his mate, an image comes rushing back to him—being pinned beneath Browning in the office, and seeing a dark, red patch growing against Eames' side.

 

"You're hurt," he rasps.

 

Eames shakes his head nonchalantly. "They patched me up, love. Nothing to worry about," and before Arthur can interrogate him further on the matter, Eames fishes something out of his pocket. He takes Arthur gently by the hand and slides the wedding band back on his finger. "I've been keeping it for you," he says, a classic diversion tactic that Arthur allows because his vision is suddenly blurry with tears.

 

They usually take their wedding rings off during jobs, to keep that part of their lives private, and Eames was charged with keeping them during their stint in Vegas. He sees now that Eames' ring is back on his own finger, and Arthur is quiet for a long time—even when Eames leans forward to kiss him. This time, he's able to return the embrace a bit more enthusiastically, but then the downstairs door slams shut, and multiple pairs of feet come charging up the stairs to alert them the kids are home.

 

***

 

Arthur is tragically wobbly on his feet the first time he climbs out of bed, but Eames takes his hands and helps him the first few steps. Smiling self-consciously, Arthur tentatively walks the length of the room, then pauses to slide his arms around Eames' neck and rest against the generous bulk of his chest. The kisses Eames' presses to his lips are a nice reward for all his efforts, and the alpha repeats that system every time Arthur successfully walks a few more paces.

 

When he's no longer hobbling about like a total invalid, Eames opens the door and Arthur leads the way into the main room.

 

The kids are milling around in the kitchen, opening Chinese food containers and pouring the contents on plates, but they pause the moment the bedroom door opens. 

 

"Dad!" Jack says, the second he spots Arthur, and their eldest rushes over, though stops short of actually touching his father. He stands by him awkwardly, eyeing Arthur, as if afraid he might shatter if handled too vigorously.

 

Arthur smiles faintly, and his lips throb in objection, but he tries not to wince lest he upset the children. "Hey, guys," he says softly when Rose and Max come rushing forward as well.

 

"Okay, give him some space," Eames chastises gently, guiding Arthur by the elbow to the nearest chair so he can sit down. 

 

Everyone fusses over him once he's at the kitchen table, bringing him water and food, and then pulling up chairs at the table to surround him. It's nice to allow everyone else to lead the conversation, and no one embarrasses him by pointing out he can barely eat any food (it still hurts too much to chew). Max is also not eating much food, and Arthur watches him with open concern when Ravi quietly encourages him to at least try to eat his eggplant in garlic sauce, which is usually Max's favorite meal.

 

Arthur makes a mental note to corner Max later about it.

 

No one talks about Arthur's abduction, or the rescue. Instead, Jack babbles about school and football, and the family listens—grateful for the steady, comforting drone of his voice. When he runs out of things to say, Rose fills them in about her life in Paris, and then Ravi explains his job at the lab. Arthur listens curiously for as long as he can, but after a while, his eyelids grow heavy again. Eames notices immediately and sets down his fork. "All right, that's enough for one day," he says. "Everyone say goodnight to dad."

 

He smiles softly when a chorus of  _goodnight, dad_ rises from around the table. Normally, he might have tried to fight Eames on the matter, considering he hasn't been with his whole family in what feels like a very long time, but he's undeniably overextended himself. When he stands, Arthur gratefully takes the alpha's arm, and allows himself to be escorted back to the other room. "Night, guys," he says before disappearing inside the bedroom.

 

Arthur makes a mental note to thank Max and Ravi later for allowing him and Eames to sleep in their bed for so many nights, especially when Max clearly isn't feeling very well. 

 

He has an opportunity to do so the next day, when Arthur awakes to an empty bed, and a relatively empty apartment. When he hobbles out to the kitchen, Max is there, making coffee. After wishing him a good morning, Max informs his father that the others have gone on a grocery run (keeping the refrigerator stocked to accommodate six people is no easy task, after all). 

 

"Are you really feeling better?" Max asks, eyes filled with concern, when he sets a mug of coffee in front of his father and then sits beside him.

 

"Yeah," Arthur says lightly, flashing a faint smile at his son, and sipping the coffee. It's hot, and hurts his bottom lip, but he needs the caffeine badly. Arthur can't stand the idea of spending yet another day in bed. When he sets the mug back to the table, Arthur looks at Max's pale face: "What did you want to tell me?"

 

Max shifts on his chair, and he's again struck by how gaunt the other omega looks. Like Arthur, Max has always had a hard time putting on and maintaining his weight. Stress causes Max to lose weight too quickly, and Arthur wonders if something has happened to alter his eating habits.

 

Hesitantly, Max sighs and flashes an unsure, nervous smile at Arthur. "Um…okay. Well…I'm pregnant."

 

For the first time in days, Arthur completely forgets about his injuries and the permanent exhaustion, and he gapes at Max before a wide smile breaks across his face. "Holy shit. Really?" Arthur whispers. "Who knows? Does Ravi know?"

 

Max grins, his face losing some of its paleness, cheeks flushed with a light blush. "Yeah, he's so excited. No one else, though. I wanted to tell you first because…" he trails off, slowly rotating his mug against the surface of the table, "I wanted to know if maybe you'd move here, just for a little bit," he adds quickly, like he's asking Arthur for some great favor. "I mean, just to help…for a little while. I'm still in school, and we'll need help—"

 

"Yes," Arthur says quickly, not wanting Max to grovel for something he is willing to readily give. "Of course. We'll rent an apartment," he decides immediately, and it isn't the first time he's volunteered Eames for a job without consulting him first.

 

Looking equal parts relieved and ecstatic, Max smiles brightly: "Really?"

 

Arthur rests his hand atop Max's and squeezes comfortingly. "We would do anything for you. You know that," he says softly, wrapping his arms around his son when Max slumps forward to rest his head against Arthur's shoulder.

 

In retrospect, his response was positively dignified when compared to Eames', which entailed the alpha shouting and picking up Max, spinning him in circles in the middle of the room, while Jack cries, "Holy fuck! Are you serious?!" and Rose watches them all with huge eyes.

 

"Well done, ducky!" Eames shouts, face alight as he beams at Arthur. "Grandfathers. How about that?"

 

"How about that?" Arthur repeats quietly, smiling at his mate's happiness, and Max's flushed face.

 

All the years they've spent being shot at, and chased by henchmen, Arthur never allowed himself to contemplate a reality where they'd live long enough to see this day.

 

"It's still early. Don't get excited," Max says, trying to defuse the hysteria, but it's too late.

 

"Nonsense," Eames dismisses. "You'll be just like Arthur. Popped out babies like it was nothing," he adds jovially.

 

Arthur quirks a brow at him. "I wouldn't say like it was  _nothing_ ," he corrects.

 

"I'm gonna be an uncle!" Jack interjects, smiling like a lunatic, and taking over the duty of picking up Max in a celebratory hug.

 

Max forgets to be annoyed and laughs, clinging to his brother as Jack carries him around.

 

Rose sits down beside Ravi, who has been quietly watching the family reaction with a bright smile hanging on his lips. "And I get to be the cool aunt," she says, elbowing her brother-in-law in the ribs. "Hope you're okay with me spoiling your kid rotten."

 

"Oh, by all means," he adds with a smirk.

 

"And well done you!" Eames adds, pointing at Ravi. "You're just like me. I swear, I used to just  _look_ at Arthur and he'd get pregnant."

 

Arthur rolls his eyes, but ends up laughing at Eames' revisionist history when the children groan in response to their embarrassing father. It's a nice, normal moment following what has been one of the worst experiences in Arthur's life. He's immensely grateful for the good news—he  _needs_  to remember some feeling besides fear and pain.

 

***

 

After Jack and Rose return to their respective cities for school, Eames handles the news of their temporary relocation to Massachusetts well, just as Arthur expected him to. The protective part of his alpha brain is operating in high gear, and Eames is excited about the idea of being around Max in a supportive role, including fattening up his boy with delicious meals.

 

They find an apartment ten minutes away, and stock it with the bare minimum requirements for survival. It's when Arthur is scrubbing the bathroom clean that he decides to break one of his post-abduction cardinal rules and looks at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. It's been a month since Browning orchestrated his imprisonment, but Arthur still bears the marks of the ordeal. The swelling in his nose has finally started to go down, but his face is still bruised, though the welts are now yellow and purple instead of dark blue.

 

Arthur leans against the edge of the sink and sighs, frowning at his reflection. He knows it's irrational to believe he'll never look as he used to, but some days it's hard to remain optimistic.

 

Eames enters the bathroom, carrying a bucket of cleaning supplies, and catches Arthur staring at himself morosely. "None of that," he scolds playfully, setting down the bucket, and pressing against Arthur's back.

 

The omega smirks and leans back against him, sighing when Eames' arms wrap around his waist. "I'm a mess," he murmurs, brow furrowed.

 

"You look exactly like a man who had the piss beaten from him," Eames responds, indelicate and cheeky, and Arthur smirks in response.

 

"But I figured I'd heal eventually," he says sullenly.

 

"You will," Eames says—tone light and sunny, and just like that, Arthur believes him.

 

Most of the time, they're at Max and Ravi's, baby-proofing the place and filling it with supplies. Arthur frowns at the steps for a long time, and then looks at Max and Ravi: "We're going to give you some money. I don't think you should stay here when the baby is learning to walk. Even with a baby gate, this is dangerous."

 

"Dad…" Max says warningly. 

 

"No, really. I'm putting my foot down," Arthur says, hands on hips.

 

"Priya…" Ravi says softly from his observational spot seated at the kitchen table. "It's not a terrible idea."

 

Which is how Arthur and Eames end up purchasing the lovely two-story Victorian a couple blocks away. When Max and Ravi move in, they openly gape at the place, in which their meager furniture only feels a single room. "You know, this place has stairs too," Max observes, nodding at the main staircase that leads upstairs—not to mention the basement stairs Max hasn't even seen yet.

 

Arthur shrugs innocently. "This place has a yard. A child should have space to play," he says evasively. 

 

Eames doesn't let Ravi grovel in thanks as the alpha clearly wants to, and instead slaps him on the back in a very manly fashion and says: "Let me show you the water boiler."

 

Eames and Ravi take over the manual labor aspects of moving into the house, though Arthur commanders the interior decorating aspects. He's horrified to learn that his youngest and his mate have been filling their living space with items purchased at flea markets. He flips open his laptop and goes on the shopping spree to end all shopping sprees, securing nothing but the best for Max, Ravi, and their future child.

 

" _Dad_ ," Max gasps, when the crib arrives, along with a $300 price tag.

 

"What?" Arthur asks innocently. "It had very high safety rating standards," he adds, by way of explanation.

 

Arthur's other job entails making food runs for them, which is usually Eames' territory, but Arthur doesn't want his mate accompanying him in public when his face is still battered and bruised. Strangers make assumptions about them when they're in public together, particularly alphas, who cast suspicious, borderline hostile glances at Eames, who they believe must have beaten Arthur.

 

The cart is nearly overflowing with food items as Arthur pushes it up and down the supermarket aisles. He leans against the handle and consults his phone, scrolling through the lengthy list Eames' dictated to him before he left the house. The alpha is apparently trying to kill them via five-course meals, and Arthur doesn't even recognize half the ingredients. He's had to harass the poor stock boy several times to locate all of Eames' exotic requests. For example, what the hell is a Kiwano Melon?

 

Arthur is busy scowling at the list, which is why he nearly runs into the spiffily dressed businessman standing in the middle of aisle five.

 

And why it takes him a few more seconds to realize the man is  _Saito_.

 

He gapes in shock at the man, who doesn't look particularly comfortable either. If he was to guess, Arthur would say Saito looks to be a combination of bashful and genuinely guilt-ridden, though it's always difficult to know exactly what the alpha is thinking.

 

Arthur feels strangely vulnerable in the domestic situation, grocery shopping, not to mention his bruised face. For some reason, he still wants Saito to think of him as the invincible point man, able to execute any job, no matter how perilous.

 

"Arthur…" Saito says, frowning as he gazes at the omega's face.

 

Seeing the concern on the man's face pulls the entire horrible ordeal to the forefront of Arthur's brain again. He was abducted, held captive, and beaten because of Saito and his obsession. Arthur sighs and places his shoe against the bottom rung of the cart, which is positioned, a buffer, between him and Saito. It's bizarre to see the alpha and his $3,000 suit sandwiched between fluorescent lighting and linoleum tiles.  

 

"Well, this is a surprise," he says, voice wavering slightly.

 

"Jun told me what transpired, and I felt an in-person explanation was the appropriate means of recourse."

 

Arthur smirks at Saito's formal tone. "At the supermarket."

 

Saito only hesitates for as long as it takes him to slightly adjust his cufflink. "I thought we should discuss this privately."

 

He pauses, but nods eventually. It's true that it would have been a very bad idea for Saito to come to the house, where Eames is. Arthur glances over his shoulder, and then gazes past Saito's shoulder. At least here, at the supermarket, they're relatively alone.

 

"That was stupid—so  _stupid_ of you…keeping photos of me like that," Arthur growls, ignorant, until that moment, of the anger he feels towards Saito.

 

The alpha is usually perfectly poised, face a careful study in polite blankness, so it is not an insignificant event when Saito's gaze fills with sadness. "I know," he answers quietly. "It is unforgivable."

 

"I almost died," Arthur adds, unwilling to let Saito easily slip away to return home with a false story about his bravery during self-flagellation. 

 

Until that moment, and uttering the words aloud, Arthur hasn't seriously considered how close he'd been to death. The confession makes his face feel hot, and his throat constricted. His children would have been devastated. Eames most certainly wouldn't have outlived him very long before succumbing to grief.

 

"You almost destroyed my family, and that's all you can say?" Arthur hisses, eyes filling with furious tears.

 

It should feel good to tell off Saito like this, but Arthur feels nothing but sadness on behalf of his family, and humiliation that something in the past still affects him so profoundly. He's free now, Browning is dead, but sometimes he feels like he's still chained to the wall in that dank, dark cell.

 

Saito seems unsure of what to say next, which in itself is like the earth spinning off its axis. For once, the alpha doesn't appear to be completely in control of the situation, and Arthur thinks back to Inception when Fischer's subconscious security nearly killed the businessman in a shootout. That is the only other time he can recall when Saito didn't have a master plan, and back then it was because he was slipping into limbo.

 

"My feelings for you…are not appropriate," Saito says finally. "They were, at one time, but…I behaved inappropriately, and for that, I'm sorry."

 

Arthur gazes at him in silence. Like him and Eames, Saito has aged over the years, but the process seems to have accelerated in the past few years. His hair is white, the lines of his face deeper. Arthur wonders if he will ever fully understand what's going on in the alpha's head. It's like not Saito ever wrote him poetry or love letters, and Arthur didn't even know the man still thought about him until Browning threw those photos in his face.

 

Saito is rich beyond comprehension, and has many omegas, who have provided him with children. But Arthur begins to think Saito's obsession extends beyond their brief history, and wonderment about what could have been. Saito isn't just fascinated by Arthur, but rather what he represents—the house, the children, a quiet, unassuming life lived in privacy. The photos Saito hired someone to take weren't just of Arthur, but of Arthur and Max at the park as he pushes the little boy on a swing, Arthur and Eames unloading groceries from the car, Arthur teaching Jack to ride his bike—little moments of normalcy a man like Saito will never know.

 

"Tell me…what I can do, Arthur," Saito rasps, eyes filled with regret.

 

Coming from a man like Saito, such a request is a blank check. Arthur could ask for the moon, and Saito would secure the help of NASA to bring it to him. 

 

"It goes without saying that my children will want for nothing," Arthur says, staring at Saito pointedly. 

 

Saito nods quickly. "Of course," he says, catching the omega's meaning immediately. Tomorrow morning, Arthur and Eames' will awake to discover several trust funds have been set up for the sprogs.

 

"And you're to stop monitoring me," Arthur adds.

 

Here, Saito hesitates. "But for your protection…"

 

"It's not your job to protect me," Arthur interjects, tone icy.

 

Clearly, no one has ever told Saito that before because he responds as though Arthur has crushed the air from his lungs. But Saito manages to nod eventually, wise enough to remain quiet in the wake of Arthur's order.

 

They regard each other quietly for a few moments, Arthur's anger fizzling, and Saito's embarrassment diminishing. "I never intended to cause you any pain, Arthur," Saito finally says, voice lowered.

 

Arthur leans against the handle of his cart, shoulders slumped when he sighs. "I know." In his own warped, twisted way, Saito thought he was taking care of Arthur, but a titan's embrace sometimes crushes even the most treasured possession. His cheeks feel warm again when he looks from the canned goods stacked in his cart, to the face of a man he once regarded with, perhaps not love, but the utmost respect and fondness. "You have to let me go," Arthur concludes quietly.

 

Phrasing things so starkly feels cruel, but necessary, and Saito does look wounded, though he nods eventually. "Take care of yourself, Arthur," he says, but before he can turn and leave his life forever, Arthur speaks:

 

"One more thing," he says, the words causing Saito to pause and glance in surprise over his shoulder. "I want you to find the man who helped me, Frank, Browning's guard."

 

Saito furrows his brow. "Why?"

 

"He saved my life. I want you to give him a full-time position. And an apartment. Something nice," he says.

 

When Saito gazes at him in amusement, Arthur temporarily forgets he's angry, and for the briefest of moments, it almost feels like old times—when he lived for the moments where he surprised and impressed one of the most powerful men on earth. "Shall I tell him this gift is from you?" Saito asks.

 

"No," Arthur says quickly, but then rethinks his answer slightly. "Tell him it's for being such a great gambler."

 

***

 

Max is terrified for his first doctor's appointment. Stupidly, they'd left him alone with an internet connection, and he'd spent the better part of a week trolling WebMD, and is convinced his totally normal pregnancy symptoms are sure signs that he, and the baby, are dying.

 

Dr. Ford's office sent Arthur contact information for a good ABO doctor in their area, and when Max's appointment rolls around, the four of them pile into Eames' car and head to Dr. Rosen's offices.

 

Max is just over a month along in his pregnancy, and though he's over the worst of his morning sickness, Arthur is still concerned by his lack of appetite. Eames has been preparing them lovely, fragrant meals that Max barely can stomach looking at.

 

"That's normal," Dr. Rosen, a kindly, middle-aged woman informs them when they're all gathered in an examination room like a cluster of frightened refugees. "You're in the early stages of pregnancy, and you're probably feeling very nauseous most of the time, yes?"

 

Max nods from his spot seated on the edge of an examination table, swinging his legs nervously as Ravi rests a comforting hand on his back. Eames is seated in the corner of the room, while Arthur stands beside Dr. Rosen, examining Max's file, which the doctor has generously allowed him to see.

 

All of his son's vitals are normal, or at least on par with what Arthur went through during his first pregnancy, which was by far the most difficult one. First borns are usually alphas, and sap omegas of most of their strength.

 

"I'm just concerned. He seems too thin," Arthur says.

 

"Well, let's take a look, shall we?" Dr. Rosen says, smiling pleasantly.

 

Max says it's all right if they stay for the ultrasound, for which Arthur is deeply grateful. He crowds nearby the doctor, and the screen, gazing over her shoulder at the monitor. Ravi holds Max's hand, and watches as Dr. Rosen smears the gel across Max's still-flat stomach. Eames hovers nearby Arthur, gaze also locked on the screen when the fuzzy imagery pops up.

 

"Okay, let's see here," Dr. Rosen hums, moving the device across Max's stomach slowly. 

 

The room is silent as they all watch the monitor, which is silly, because none of them are trained doctors or nurses, and they don't really know what they're looking at. 

 

Finally, Dr. Rosen utters a quiet  _ah-ha_ , and gestures towards the screen. "Well, there's your explanation, sweetheart," she says, smiling up at Max. "See this?" she says, tapping a tiny, dark splotch.

 

Max cranes his neck and peers at the monitor. "Um…yeah?"

 

"That's your baby," Dr. Rosen says, smiling at Max, and then up at Ravi. But before they can respond beyond stunned, dumb grins, she slides her finger over to another blotch directly beside the first one. "And this is the other baby."

 

"What?" Eames says, following a generous, collective pause from the group.

 

"Twins," Dr. Rosen says. "That explains why you feel so tired. I'll bet they're both alphas. That can be very draining."

 

Max and Ravi stare back at her, eyes widened, mouths slack.

 

"Bloody hell," Eames breathes.

 

Arthur is the first to recover, perhaps because news of twins is joyous in comparison to everything else he's been through. "Looks like you'll need our help for a bit longer than expected, hm?"

 

Max can only nod mutedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so ooobviously I won't leave you guys hanging about the Max/Ravi bbs, but I'll post those updates under the general drabble list at my tumblr: http://theaoidos.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> follow me! http://theaoidos.tumblr.com/


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